Through the Ghost
by newsgirl83
Summary: Damon, a carefree soldier & Elena, a no-nonsense physical therapist at an Army base met under ordinary circumstances. Stuck between attraction and resistance, they struggled to define their relationship until fate made the decision for them. 4 years later a heartbroken Elena battles to make good on a promise when she discovers nothing but the shell of the only man she's ever loved.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Quick hello to a humongous prologue. I wanted to once again thank everyone who has read and reviewed my other stories, and also the any new readers out there. **

**I've chosen "Through the Ghost" by Shinedown as the theme to this story after much deliberation. **

**As is typical of my style, we'll do a bit of time jumping, even in the beginning. We're only going back a few years this time, but as the story progresses, we'll dive headfirst into the life and events that led them to where they are today, living every emotion as it happens. **

**Thanks again! **

* * *

**Through the Ghost**

**Prologue**

**_Present Day_**

"Friday can't come fast enough this week, I swear," Elena yawned, hitting the switch to kill the lights in her office. "I've slept like shit all week." Between her work schedule and volunteering, she was spent.

"I know," The blond man smirked, "I was there, remember?" He followed behind her as she closed and locked the door to the clinic for the night. It was 6 p.m. on a chilly November Wednesday. He flipped the collar of his coat up to shield his neck from the wind and rest a gloved hand on her back as he led them toward their cars. "Because of it, I slept like shit, too," he winked. "And loved every second of it, trust me."

"I'm sorry," she said sadly. "I don't know what it is. Things have been good lately. I just can't shake the feeling that something feels off with me. Maybe we should take a few nights off. I haven't slept in my place in weeks, Matt."

"And that's exactly why you should just move in with me. We already share a practice," he tipped his head toward their dark brown brick building. "Why not share a place? We could get a house, a dog if you wanted…"

Elena's heart sank. Moments like this reminded her exactly why she wasn't ready to commit. It had taken nearly a year to agree to start a practice together. He'd begged her until she'd finally given in and she didn't regret it. Her work had once been her life; it was easy to default back to that type of thinking when things got too hard. Patients and paperwork were the easy parts of her life.

When she said nothing he tucked his hands into his pockets and looked down for a second before meeting her eyes. "I got it," his lips formed a thin, understanding smile. "It was just a suggestion. No pressure," he assured her.

Matt was a wonderful man. He was handsome and charming and everything she should've wanted in a guy. There was just one problem. She was confused as hell when it came to what she really wanted with him. They were great friends and just recently added the 'benefits' to their relationship. That was where the confusion came in. She knew better than to screw around with her medical partner. If…_when _it went sour, they'd have a mess to deal with at the office and that was hardly ethical or fair to their patients. They were a ticking time bomb and it seemed she was the only one who felt that way.

But something had to give. She couldn't mourn Damon forever; he wasn't even dead…at least not really. She was in love with someone who no longer existed. It was time to get over it and move on. Was she seriously going to die alone because one man didn't want her?

She'd said _no_ plenty of times to men in bars because of him, the dark-haired angel that she couldn't get out of her head. But he didn't want her anymore…maybe he never truly had. It was that uncertainty that hurt the most; everything that had once seemed so right now seemed almost imaginary.

It was time she let herself try to be happy, and with trust issues like hers, she wasn't going to take that chance with anyone but a man she knew she could believe in. Matt was the definition of safe. He was simple and caring, unchallenging. At times that sickened her. They never fought, never disagreed. He kissed the ground she walked on and there were times she hated it. He just didn't boil her blood the way Damon used to. No one did.

She'd never been one to go for something so easy as Matt. She'd once fallen in love with the exact opposite of everything he was. Maybe she just couldn't bear the thought of replacing that feeling. Maybe that was why she couldn't commit, couldn't let herself fall in love. She'd reserved that emotion for one man and one man only, and regardless of the fact that nothing would come of it, she couldn't bring herself to forget him. He made her angry as hell, disappointed her more than anything had or ever would, but she was a fool if she said she hated him. She could never hate Damon Salvatore.

Matt was dedicated and he would remain that way for as long as she let him, but it was time to get serious and make decisions. She was being unfair to him and it didn't bother her like she should. That should've been the first sign that they were likely headed for a life of boredom and blah. She either needed to relax and have a change of heart or she needed to walk away before it went even further. When it came right down to it, there was only one thing she needed to do in order to move forward in _any_ direction: let go of Damon.

"Too tired to catch dinner tonight? We could leave your car in the lot, go somewhere to eat and head back to my place. We'll be back in the morning anyway…I'm up for another sleepless night if you are."

She stopped before they reached his grey Audi, shaking her head. "I'm not feeling well," she frowned. It wasn't exactly a lie. The anxiety building in her chest was enough to make her physically sick. He never openly pressured her to commit but she knew how badly he wanted them to really be together. She wasn't even sure how she'd let her defenses down enough to slam into bed with him in the first place. She wasn't that kind of girl. At least she never used to be.

War changed people….even the people who weren't overseas fighting. The greatest part of her had clearly died anyway. Nothing was the same….never would be. She had to learn to accept it and find a way to be happy. It just wasn't so simple.

She could put on a smile and pretend to everyone's face but when she looked in the mirror she knew. She would never, ever let herself love a man as much as she had Damon Salvatore. That kind of love was lethal. That kind of love killed people's spirits, ripped them to shreds, yanked out hearts and stomped them into the dust with a smile on its face. Yeah, she'd never love like _that_ again…not if she expected to come out of it alive.

She needed time to herself tonight…to crawl under her soft covers and let herself think and feel the way she needed to without regret. She couldn't have his hands roaming over her body, couldn't have his kisses pressing into her shoulders and neck. No sexual distractions that night. She needed time to remember who she was and figure out who she'd become. Things were moving too fast.

"You're sweet to offer but I think I'd like to take a bath and snuggle in with a good book tonight. I need some Elena time…" she said softly. He sighed, disappointed, but gave her an understanding nod.

He was no fool. She may crawl into his bed on an almost nightly basis but she wasn't completely his. She'd never been a liar, never been one to care what people thought of her. She'd been wearing those dog tags the first time he'd unbuttoned her shirt. That cold metal hung around her long neck and clung to her chest, imprinting another man's name in the skin outside of her heart. At least those were removable. He cringed every time his fingers slid along the smooth skin below her ribs and saw another man's last name scripted in permanent ink. He was everywhere on her, with her. And it was oh so cryptic and telling. Even if she _did_ move on, he'd never really be gone.

She couldn't give him up. Damon Salvatore was a disease, as far as he was concerned; Elena couldn't overcome him, no matter what she _claimed_ she wanted. When she really wanted to believe something she was as good at convincing herself as she was others. He'd known her for years, been her best friend the night she flew home from Chicago a hot mess with thick, dark streaks of mascara running down her pretty face. He'd vowed to her he'd never break her heart that way if she gave him the chance and he still lived by it. He just never saw the passion in her eyes when she looked at him like he saw when someone mentioned Damon. He was second best but it was better than being nothing at all.

"Sure. You rest," he pressed a kiss to her temple. "Call me later, if you need anything," he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled gently. Her stomach dropped. He had to be the most patient man on the planet. No matter how many times she denied him he just kept on coming back. It really wasn't fair for either of them. She was never meant to fit into a white picket fence kind of mold. She needed passion, something raw and challenging. Not this.

"You can do something for me," she started, her voice shaky. "Could you cancel my appointments for tomorrow or take some of my patients if your load isn't too heavy? I need a day. I really do," she frowned. He knew her history, knew her anxiety. He'd do anything to prevent her pushing things too far. "I'm sorry to do this to you…" _All of this_.

"Don't be," he smiled. "Don't be sorry for needing time."

_Don't be so god damn nice_, she thought. It was a kick in the gut. It just made it worse. Every day he proved why he was perfect and in turn, that proved how very imperfect she was.

She nodded, thanking him with a small hug before sinking into the seat of her own car. He sent her a small wave as he drove past and she let out a breath. She was an idiot, she decided, very unlike the woman she'd grown up wanting to be. If someone told her she'd be sulking and brokenhearted over a man years after the fact she'd never have believed them. She'd always excelled; there was just this one area that she struggled.

Elena started her engine, intending to make her way back into the city and up to her loft but found herself turning down familiar streets until she pulled in front of her favorite café. If anything could help her think, it was coffee. After ordering her usual, she slid into a booth by the window and let her thoughts drift as she watched the cars go by. The glass was cool and calming…frosting over to indicate the end of another year was drawing to a close. God, the recent years had passed so uneventful…they'd been nothing but a waiting game. And when the wait was over, she came out worse than before.

She'd been anxious to grow up, make a difference in life. Her childhood had gone by in a flash and she'd make some big decisions as she leapt into adulthood. Times like this, when she was stressed and tired, she wondered if she'd done everything wrong. Life could've been so much easier if she'd let it. No one forced her hand to sign those papers. No one told her to fall in love with a man she couldn't have. She could've gone to school for anything, done _anything_… anything would have been easier than this.

She should be happy! She had a successful private practice with a man who was practically Prince Charming. As ridiculous as it sounded, it just wasn't enough. She hated being the sad sack. It was an unflattering personality trait she'd never wanted to be associated with. There were just some things that couldn't be helped.

The door of the café rang as it opened and snapped her train of thought. The clock on the wall said 8:30 and she realized she'd been sitting there for hours and hadn't realized it. She definitely needed that day off. Even if she was just a physical therapist, she shouldn't be practicing when she was so very many places in her head. What would it take to take that leap, to finally tell herself it was going to be okay…that she'd known him for just a short time in her 30 years and she shouldn't let it define the rest of her life. How could she finally, absolutely let go?

Blinking a few times to clear her tired eyes, she froze on the man at the booth in front of her. Oh she was delirious! She was out of her damn mind, now. Maybe it was time to start the meds again…maybe she needed more the just one day off….

The man snapped his paper before he turned the page, hiding his face. She wasn't sure when she'd started to hold her breath but the heaviness in her lungs told her to let it out. Finishing her final swig of room temperature coffee and rubbing her eyes, she prayed she was delusional. For the first time in her life she wanted to be crazy. She wasn't ready for this. Not now, not here, and certainly not like this. She'd been ready before…two years ago. She'd been ready since the moment he'd stepped on that plane and shipped out overseas. But she was anything but prepared for him now. Now she was way too vulnerable to stand her ground and it was way too good of timing. Of course he'd show up like this when she needed to make a choice about her life. He'd always barged in at the wrong moment; she'd once seen that as an attractive characteristic.

Standing, she hoped she'd see an old man behind that newspaper or a teenager trying to look cool. But her heart slammed to a halt when she caught the man's dark hair again….dark as a raven and thick…at least an inch and a half thick on top and short and neat around the sides and neck. That was longer than she'd ever seen it…and it was so _fucking beautiful_. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't. He didn't get to come back here and fuck with her brain.

Who was she kidding? It was like her life suddenly had new purpose and possibilities, no matter how bitter she was about the way things had gone before.

There was still a chance she'd seen him wrong. She let her gaze float down to his eyes and immediately dropped back down into her booth, frozen. Her face flushed, her stomach flipped from butterflies to mush to nausea. It was him. No one on the face of this earth had eyes like that. And he was acting like he didn't see her, but what were the odds he'd be there, sitting _right_ by her by some fluke? Nothing was accidental with him. He was constantly aware of his surroundings…maybe now more than ever.

Fisting her hands tightly, her legs slid her out of the booth and carried her a few feet forward until she was in his booth, sitting right across from him with a look of complete anguish on her face. He flipped the page of the newspaper as if she was invisible. If she'd been stronger she would've forced herself away and stopped caring just then. His avoidance indicated not much had changed in the years since she'd tried. Her heart argued it was more courageous to stick it out and say the things she'd always needed and wanted to say. Maybe _then_ she could finally put this behind her.

She cleared her throat, unsure of what her voice would sound like once she actually spoke to him. It was kind of late to worry about appearances now. This was it, their moment. They might never get another. She couldn't blow it…she had to say everything she'd wondered for years. She had big questions and he owed her answers.

In an instant the paper was down and folded and the man was revealed to her. Her breath caught in her throat as their eyes met for the first time in five years. And as hard as she fought it, she reacted the exact way she always knew she would. Her eyes were glassy in a heartbeat.

He wasn't smiling. He was frozen in his place, his hand wrapped around his steaming mug of black coffee. She searched and searched for something familiar but she could find nothing. His normally warm eyes were cold and hollow, as if he truly had never seen her in his life. He had a damn good poker face, though, and she could only hope that was the case this time, too.

"Hello, Elena," he said softly, and it was as if the angels sang his praises. Her name sounded beautiful coming from his lips. As angry as she was with him for the way he'd acted, she couldn't help but realize she'd once prepared for this. She'd once been mentally ready to fight through this with him, if he'd let her. It was when he'd turned her down that she'd gotten her reality check. He'd just been a lonely soldier, using her as a lifeline. Now that he was home he had options. She wasn't the only woman that would want him. Things had gotten out of control with them…fast…

The funny part of it all was that she hadn't once thought of Matt since she'd laid eyes upon Damon. He wasn't holding her back from what she wanted. She was the _take what I want_ kind of girl and she wanted answers.

"Don't you dare do this to me," she said, heartbroken that _those_ were the first words she'd said to him in years. It killed her that the reunion she'd craved for so long was turning into a tragedy. "You don't sit six feet away from me and pretend not to see me," she bit out through gritted teeth.

Truth be told, she didn't know _what_ she felt in that moment. Relief…anger…a vomit-inducing combination of emotions that she wasn't on board with feeling after an exhausting pair of years.

He said nothing and her stomach churned. "And you certainly don't get to pretend like this doesn't make you uncomfortable," she pointed between them. "And sit there and say nothing when I'm the one acting like a fool here, Damon. Jesus Christ…"

His hand ran through his hair and he threw himself back against the pad of the booth, looking out the window for a moment as if he could find the words he needed to say.

"Why are you here?" she pled, the tears drying up, replaced with a burning fire in her eyes. "Say something…anything…or I'm walking out this door and I'm _not_ turning back. I can't, okay? I can't..."

"Same reason you're here. I like coffee," he managed. "And I needed to think. This city's loud…but I'd take honking and sirens over the creepy quiet of the desert any day…" he struggled to swallow his words. She was surprised he'd already mentioned what had torn them apart. Iraq was a part of him now and what he'd seen there wasn't leaving him anytime soon.

"When did you get into town?" She was trying to keep it calm, non-confrontational now…as she was getting no reaction from her earlier questions.

"Last week," he sipped his coffee. Finally a straight-forward answer. "I'm here to stay now…I'm done in Chicago. I needed to come home. I'm out, you know…done with the Army…"

She let out a breath, feeling her hands shake on the cold table. She jumped when she felt his warm hand try to still hers, pulling away instantly. He frowned.

It had happened without thought, for both of them.

"Sorry," he said softly, staring down into the black abyss in his mug. He was rusty at this…at her. He was an asshole now; he knew that. But he wasn't trying to piss her off. He'd been stupid with emotions before he went off to war and he was in a whole different kind of boat now that he was back. He hadn't expected to come home the same man….he just hadn't figured he'd change this much.

But after what he'd done he couldn't blame her for pulling away. Even if he hadn't been in a good place back then he could've at least told her instead of letting he think she'd done something wrong. It had nothing to do with his feelings for her and everything to do with his state of mind. She wouldn't want a mess like him. She didn't deserve it.

"What is this, Damon?" She asked him with pleading eyes. "Are you just here to torture me…because you're doing a damn good job of it," She was playing the victim and loathed it. The sensible part of her, which didn't often show its face around Damon Salvatore, reminded her that she wasn't the only thing he'd been dealing with over the last few years. He'd come home a wounded veteran. He had more to worry about than making her happy. It was just so hard to remember that.

She just believed if she'd meant anything to him at all he'd have told her that in person instead of throwing his buddy to the dogs and making him tell her. What kind of man did that make him? She hadn't gone in there expecting rainbows and ponies. She'd just wanted _him_, no matter what condition he was in. She wanted him to need her, to lean on her in a way she'd never wanted anyone to need her before. She'd been totally and completely his since the second they'd kissed, no matter how long it took her to admit it. Now it was hard to imagine these icy eyes every looking at her the way they once had. Was the man she'd once loved even still in there?

She was mad at him, but mostly, she was mad at herself for feeling the way she did. She'd promised she'd be there, no matter what…but he'd promised her something too. He broke his promise without a second thought, it seemed, so why did she feel so obligated to keep her end of the deal?

Seconds felt like hours in the time she'd pulled her hand away from him. That one moment when their skin had touched reminded her of the power he had over her. She was a puppet that was gladly led by his tug on her strings. Even now.

When she sifted through the pain and all the other shit, there was still him. There was still the fact that he was sitting in front of her…even if it was years later. He was still alive.

"Why now?" She squeaked out weakly as her head spun with memories of the time she'd dropped everything to find him. She'd been on fire then, burning with excitement of a future she'd figured they'd have by now. She was in her thirties now, a childless, unmarried woman who was sleeping with a man she wasn't even sure she felt a damn thing for. What kind of person did that make _her_?

She remembered it like yesterday, the feeling of complete rejection. And despite what she'd always imagined, it was a whole hell of a lot more painful with him in front of her than it had been then…

Suddenly life was on rewind and she was reliving that day two years ago all over again.

* * *

**2010**

Elena's hand shook as it gripped the cold metal handle of a shop in downtown Chicago. Wrapped snugly in a thick black pea with black boots up to her knees, she caught her refection in the store's glass door and let out a breath into the cold winter air.

She'd imagined that moment hundreds, maybe millions of times before, but in her mind she'd never looked so cold or devastated. But there she stood with a red nose, pink cheeks and tiny snowflakes pattered in her short, wavy chocolate brown hair. Would he even recognize her?

Had she been ready to see him?

God, yes! She'd made the decision in a heartbeat, dropping everything to hop on a plane just hours after she'd found out he was back, a very unusual move on her part. It wasn't until after she'd boarded the plane and buckled her seatbelt that she'd gotten trapped in her own head. Too much time to think wasn't a good thing for Elena, never had been. She'd second guessed herself too many times because of it, always afraid to lead with her heart and not her head. It wasn't in her makeup to just let things happen; she _made_ them happen.

For the first time in her life she wanted to believe there really was a bigger plan for her, for them. In the years they'd been apart she'd had no control and she hated it. She couldn't protect him, couldn't look in his eyes and promise him everything would be okay. For years she'd believed certain men and women were born to serve, including her. When it was her boy out there in the sand, however, she'd started to think differently. She never spoke about her feelings for him to anyone but everybody in her close circle knew…even Matt. The ache in her chest was almost unbearable now; it was obvious from the weak look in her brown eyes every time she looked at the American flag that flew outside her home. She'd believe in him until the day she died.

She'd been out of the military for years but she was still waiting. She wasn't a crier but she woke up on a damp pillow every now and again, clutching the cold metal tags around her neck. It wasn't fair. She was selfish to cry on the shoulder of a man who'd never make her feel even half of what Damon had in their short time together. But Damon was forced to be just a memory for so long, and it was getting harder to remember his touch with each passing night.

She'd been living on a promise for the last 2 years, waiting with baited breath for the phone to ring and his sexy voice to say _baby, I'm home for you_, but it never came. Instead she'd flipped open her newspaper that morning with her coffee and read a column about a wounded soldier come home from Iraq six months before. _That_ was her notice. He hadn't even bothered to tell her he was safe and back in the country. All romantic feelings aside, that was enough to break anyone's heart.

The hurt came back to her as she sat on that plane, remembering the honest look in his eyes when he'd promised her they'd be together again. She'd never believed anything to be truer than his final words to her.

_I will find you_…_The second I set foot on American soil, Elena, I will find you_…

She'd managed to somehow go from furious to heartbroken in that two hour flight west to Chicago. It was ridiculous how weak she'd become. She'd spent her life putting duty before all else until she met him. He was dangerous and wonderful at the same time, and there was no turning back now. Despite everything and everyone at home she knew what was best for her. They no longer had to be oceans apart. And for the first time in her life she'd made a choice without worrying about the consequences. She'd doubted them enough when they were together, hadn't she? Or maybe she'd just questioned herself. They'd lost so much time hung up on what ifs and she wasn't sacrificing another hour if it was up to her. That made her selfish in a way, she knew, because she had no idea where he was in his own head. He'd chosen not to see her for a reason. She just couldn't bear to believe it was because he regretted loving her in the first place.

She could never regret him. Their relationship was against everything she believed in. She made exceptions for him and not just in the line of duty. They were different when they were together. She learned to see herself as a woman and not just a soldier. He'd given her confidence in ways she'd never have let herself find if it weren't for him. Come to think of it, they were thousands of ways of good when they were together; they were in the seventh circle of hell when they weren't.

Before this day she'd only been able to be with him in her head. And she was. Every time she closed her eyes he was there…real enough to touch and taste…inches from her with a dangerously sexy smile on his lips and eyes that could kill. Then she'd blink and they'd be somewhere else…somewhere deadly terrifying and hot. And they were amid explosions, running for their lives, but they were never nightmares to her…not if it meant they were together. And she knew she was crazy and in way too deep when she realized she'd go there for real in an instant if it meant she could hold his hand. She'd have died to just tell him she loved him once. Just once.

She'd been too sick and sad to say the words when he'd left and she regretted it every minute of every day for the last two years. She could've written him, told her she loved him in a letter, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him without looking in those beautiful eyes. And that was stupid, she knew, because there was a chance he'd die before he came home, and he'd die without knowing how she really felt. Her letters, if he'd ever really gotten them, had been filled with things that hadn't even mattered.

Elena was no stranger to farewells. She'd cared for many soldiers on that base and watched them go off to fight with fire under their wings. It was normal, expected, but they weren't Damon Salvatore. She knew she was in trouble the moment he stumbled into the picture with his snarky smile and the brightest, bluest eyes she'd ever seen. He was no ordinary soldier, no ordinary man. She'd never known heartbreak until he'd had to say goodbye. That day she was a woman who'd lost her man, not a physical therapist who'd shipped off another soldier from her base.

But that was all over and done with. He'd made his choice, clearly, and it no longer included her. War changed people. She'd seen it first-hand. She'd seen a soldier come home from battle and the emotions tethered to that return. She was logical and didn't often show emotion, not even around her family. But she'd always been a mess around Damon. Her brother had pointed that out the first time he met the guy. And she'd been a wreck the day he left. They knew it was serious when she'd curled up in a ball and wept.

She'd cried about very few things in life. The only other thing she could remember had been their father's death. She'd been 9and her brother Jeremy only 7. He'd barely been able to hold it together, but Elena's little hand was above her heart as that American flag was folded and those gunshots were fired.

That had been the day she decided what she was meant to do with her life. Everyone figured she'd change her mind…that a 9-year-old sad little girl would certainly change her mind before the time came. But years later she was signing on those dotted lines. If she had anything to say about it, no soldier of hers would suffer any more than they already had. If her father still had the use of his legs he would've made it out of that fire. He was a veteran, an American hero that saved lives in the Gulf War. He'd been injured there, but lived to come home in his wheelchair, tattered and torn. He could've gotten help if he'd wanted. He'd just been too damned stubborn.

He'd died on his own soil, in his own bed as their home went up in flames. Even at her young age Elena knew that was unfair. He'd come home only to leave them again.

But she was 28 as she made her way through the windy city, and she was certain the stinging in the back of her eyes had nothing to do with the cold November air biting at her face. And the twisting ache in her chest as her hand turned the knob told her she was toast…done for…throwing herself out there with unmatched desperation for a man who might not even give a damn about her anymore. Yeah, some soldier she was. If the guys could see her now, dressed so pretty, wearing her heart on her sleeve for Fort Drum's biggest womanizer…

But they weren't at the base anymore, and maybe that was the problem. And for all the times they'd said things would be so much simpler once they were out, it sure as hell seemed a lot more complicated. He'd been certain he'd never get deployed. He hadn't taken it seriously until he had to. Everything changed in a blink of an eye and the only thing that still felt real in life to her was them.

They were civilians with endless possibilities and that scared the living shit out of her. This was what they'd been fighting toward for years, living for….

They were younger when they'd met, maybe more naïve. They'd been desperate to hold onto to something normal, as most soldiers were before they went on a tour of duty. After years of nothing, it was easy to see how he'd make a promise out of that desperation. He wanted something to fight for, something to come home to….

Well, here she was. Scared or not, she was putting herself out there, taking a risk for them, as he'd once begged her to do. Regardless of his reasoning for staying quiet and away for six months, she had to believe he still cared for her. And she would be there for him if he let her, no matter what he'd become….and it had nothing to do with the vow she'd made to her late father's grave.

So instead of the happy reunion she'd dreamed of for years, she'd trudged through snow to find him, hoping she wasn't about to make a fool of herself. No matter how many different horrible ways this could go, nothing he could say would hurt more than him keeping himself from her. If he didn't love her, fine, but the least he could've done was tell her he was home, alive and safe.

The thought of never seeing him again was worse than anything he could say or do. And she was a masochist, maybe, because she'd rather he yell or snap at her for showing up than say nothing at all. The fire that flashed in his icy blue eyes was hotter and warmer than anything she'd ever felt, and she hadn't been living on a promise for it to end like this.

She took a breath and braced herself as she heard the clang of the bell on the door ring as she stepped into the shop. Stomping the snow off her boots lightly and unwrapping the red scarf from around her neck as if she'd be staying awhile, she scanned the aisles of the store. It smelled like oil and sawdust and her stupid little heart could just picture him arched over a tool bench, the strong muscles of his back flexing as he carved through the wood. It was hard to remember her sadness when she was around the things he worked with every day. And she was a maniac, the adrenaline pumping so quickly through her system she was certain she could fly.

Her hand shook as it ran along the counter, ready to ring the service bell and see his pretty eyes again. She hadn't seen him in years but she could picture every part of him in her mind. Commanding hands, strong back, big, cocky smile. What she wouldn't give for him to taunt her with that smirk again. In her head he was still that 23-year-old man…

When she'd heard about this place from the paper, she'd pictured it would be clean and beautiful with touches of Damon here and there. Pictures of the things he loved the most, the bold aroma of coffee throughout the aisles from some little back office. Instead she was met with blank walls and sawdust.

"Can I help you?"

Elena jumped as a voice sounded from behind her. It was calm and unfamiliar and she waited a beat before she turned to answer. She wasn't sure if she was happy or upset that it wasn't Damon.

The sandy haired man smiled and ran a hand over the stubble on his cheeks and his blue eyes shined. "You look a little lost…and cold…" he added and Elena sighed. "My guess is you stumbled in here to warm up," he waited and she said nothing. "Or maybe I'm wrong and you're in search of a hacksaw or a set of sheet metal screws,"

Once her head settled into place she knew exactly who this man was. Alaric Saltzman was Damon's childhood best friend. They'd talked about him a lot in their time together and as painful as it was that he searched this man out instead of coming home to her, she was glad he'd found someone. But Elena wasn't the warm and fuzzy type, at least not with anyone but Damon. She was too broken to show emotions to a man she only knew through stories.

"I'm uh," she cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. I'm actually here to speak to…"

"You've got a snowflake on your eyelash," he smiled, moving to brush it away but she stepped back and pinched it away herself, praying it didn't make her mascara run.

"Thank you," she said, surprised.

His smile told her everything. This man was getting his flirt on. She couldn't begin to explain how many things were wrong with the whole situation. She wasn't used to the attention and lately it had been thrown on her in heaps. First at home from her friend Matt…now this man...she could barely wrap her head around it.

"Sorry," he shook his head. "So which was it? You're here to warm up or to find some tools? I've got a coffeepot in the back. It'd just take me a minute to get some going while you look around…"

"I'm actually here to see Damon Salvatore," her throat tightened at the feel of his name on her lips. She practically choked just thinking about how badly she missed him. "I heard he works here."

"Yeah but he doesn't deal with customers," he swallowed. "He's all back office. I'm the floor guy. Direct any and all questions to me. I'm Alaric…"

"He'll deal with me," Elena said seriously. "I want to see him," she insisted, looking around the man to find a door leading to the back of the store.

"Trust me when I say you're better off _not_ seeing him, okay? I've known the guy for years and I know he's serious when he says he doesn't want to be bothered," Alaric offered, crossing his arms and taking a deep breath. "I'm not going to push him."

"What's the supposed to mean?" Elena frowned, stepping to the side. Her heart hammered in her chest as she thought of what kind of shape he was in. Was he angry, sick, hurt? The article she'd read said he'd been home almost half a year. Surely he was settling back into civilian life by now. She'd just assumed he didn't care about her anymore. The reminder of selfishness flashed back into her memory. She wasn't his end all, be all…he had a life before her…

"It means you're not changing my mind, honey," he insisted, a small smirk growing on his face when her lips turned into an unintentional pout. "What's this about, huh? Are you some old sweetheart of his from back home or something? If that's the case, I suggest you just turn around and go home. The guy's not interested."

"I'm Elena Gilbert," she said as if it would make a difference. She waited for his eyes to light up in understanding, for him to move aside as if she'd said the one name that _did_ make a difference, but it never came. His brow knit together and he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, I don't know that name," he said and her heart sank. Her head began to pound with disappointment and sadness. He'd shared countless stories of his childhood with Alaric during their time together and here he hadn't even once mentioned her name? She felt the color rising in her cheeks from embarrassment and envy of the man Damon had put his trust in. She was putting herself out there for nothing, it seemed, but she hadn't travelled for hours to be told she couldn't see the love of her life. Whether it meant everything or nothing at all to this man in front of her, she _did_ mean something to Damon. She had, at least. He'd said she was everything.

"You have no idea what I've been through to get to this moment," her voice broke. "I'm just asking for a chance. Just please. Go back there, tell him I'm here. Say my name and if he still doesn't want to see me I'll leave…." She pled. "Please…" If only she believed it would be that easy.

He swallowed, catching the sadness in her eyes.

"And please don't just walk back there and walk out and _say_ you asked him. I've just spent hours on a plane, walked through snow…and that's just today, okay? You don't know the half of what I went through before today to get him back,"

Alaric's head spun. This woman wasn't here for business. She had that look in her eye, the one Jenna had just before she'd yelled at him. He'd said he hadn't wanted to deal with her then but he'd give anything for that chance again….just one more day with the woman he loved.

This woman, Elena Gilbert, was here searching for something he feared she would not find. He'd known Damon since they were five and _this_ Damon was very different. If he barely recognized his friend it was safe to say this woman wouldn't either. And if she was searching for a man she'd once loved…well, he wasn't so sure she'd find him. He was a shell of a man now, a ghost. It was a miracle he was still upright and breathing. It was amazing he talked to him at all.

She was beautiful and persistent and he couldn't help but want to help her. He wasn't sure who he was protecting by keeping them apart. She wouldn't find what she came for, even if he _did _agree to talk to her. Sometimes getting what you want is worse than having to wait.

"I can't make any promises," he said seriously. "The guy's got a mind of his own, okay? I don't even know you and somehow I feel like I'm going to end up hurting you here," he frowned. "Don't say I didn't warn you…"

"I'm tough," she swallowed. "You have no idea how tough." She assured him and he sighed, staring at her for just a moment longer before he spun around to head to the back of the store.

Her eyes scanned the shelves again, noting all the different types of screws and nails and anchors she hadn't realized existed. It was funny how little she actually knew about Damon's life outside of the military. He hadn't struck her as the tool man type. He'd been carefree and wild, as if he didn't know what kind of future was in store for him if he ever got out of the Army. This was the last thing she would've pictured him doing, but then again, she hadn't imagined herself this much of a mess about him, either.

They had so much to learn about each other and so much time now that they could be together without worry or reservations.

She heard the legs of a chair slide backward on the floor and her chest tightened at the possibility of Alaric being wrong. But the crashing of glass on the ground and a rough slam of a thick door gave her all the answer she needed. She didn't know the whys of it but she _wouldn't_ be seeing her soldier that day.

In a minute Alaric returned with a sympathetic look on his face that made her stomach hurt. He took a breath and frowned as he moved closer to her and she closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he started. "I told him who you were and…" he couldn't get his sentence out before she shook her head and tried to wave it off as if it wasn't the most devastating news she'd ever heard. It was time to front.

"It's fine," she smiled but it was fake. Even a man who just met her could tell. "It's fine. My brother was right. I shouldn't have come…" she let out a choked laugh of bitterness. "Sorry to have caused a scene. I hope he isn't angry with you," she swallowed and caught the look of pity in his eyes before she turned to go. She wrapped her soft red scarf around her neck again and pushed into the door handle, ready to head back into the cold and let her heart freeze over again so it didn't hurt so badly.

"Elena, wait…" he called out. "This is probably none of my business but I kind of have to know what this is going to do to him…"

She stopped at the door and turned back to him now with bright, blurry tears in her eyes. For someone who never cried, she was wide open and raw to a complete stranger and she couldn't have cared less. "Nothing," she swallowed. "My guess is this will do nothing to him. If he was angry enough to slam doors and break…" the thick lump in her throat prevented her from finishing her thoughts.

"Listen, you're somebody…" he said slowly, as if he'd somehow learned who she was in all of five angry minutes in the back office. He couldn't possibly know the half of it.

"I wanted to think so," she smiled sadly to stop the tears from sliding.

"Look…" he ran a hand through his hair. "The fact that he got so stirred up about anything proves it. He hasn't…he's not…" he couldn't find the words. "I promised him I wouldn't give details about his life but you gotta know this. He's lost, Elena, and when I say lost I mean he's practically dead. And we might be strangers here," he pointed between them, "but we have something in common, I think. We both care a whole hell of a lot for that man in there. And he needs us."

"Maybe," she shrugged sadly. If he was so down and out she would've hoped he'd come to her. He knew her feelings for him, didn't he, or did he still doubt that she was serious? Yeah, she'd given him reason to question her feelings but she thought that was all cleared up. She meant what she said that night. He was her soul. But he couldn't expect her to wait around forever. He didn't get to keep her heart and never give it back if he wasn't going to love her back.

"Forgive him," he pled. "Give him time to come around…"

Time? How long did he want her to wait? If he hadn't had the decency to even come through the door and tell her he wasn't ready himself, she sure as hell couldn't spend the rest of her life crying over him. Of course that was easier said than done…

"How do you know? You don't even know who I am," she shook her head. "What did he say to you when you told him I was here?"

"He told me to tell you to leave…" he said honestly, unable to lie. And it was making it worse but anything, aside from fibbing, would have. "He told me to tell you _no_…"

Her heart shattered into a million tiny little pieces and scattered about that wooden floor. In that moment she it felt like she'd just wasted years of her life waiting for nothing.

"Well then he's right. I need to go," she said without emotion. "Sorry to have taken your time," she pushed through the door and let herself get swept away with cold emotion.

* * *

_**Present Day**_

The waitress appeared before them and slipped them once check, as if they were there together on purpose. Elena sighed, pulling it toward her on the table and shaking her head when the waitress left.

"I wanted to tell you…I'm home," he said seriously. She waited for a cocky smile or wink but it never came. It was as if the words were a challenge for him to say. "I needed to say it…"

"I'm too tired for this tonight, Damon," she opened her purse and rifled through for her wallet. "I've had a long day and a long week and I'm really not capable of sorting through things with you right now…especially with the way you're looking at me."

"I don't know what else to say, Lena…" he stopped when she looked up at him from her purse with sadness in her eyes. "Tell me what I'm supposed to say…"

"No," she closed her eyes, feeling a tear drop from her eyelash onto her lap. "I can't do that."

"You're angry with me," he stated matter-of-factly.

"You're damn right I am," she snapped, closing her purse and standing up to walk toward the front counter to pay for their drinks. She could be mad as hell on the outside but inside she was screaming.

"Don't be," he said, following her slowly. "You have no idea what I was going through…what I _am_ going through…"

"And whose fault is that?" She said without thinking, not realizing what she'd alluded to. Of course she couldn't know what he'd seen in Iraq…but that wasn't what she was referring to at all. "I wanted to know how you were…who you were, Damon. I showed up the same day I found out you'd be home for six months. I was broken to pieces that you didn't come to find me when you got home but I was determined to find _you_, I still believed." she paused so the waitress could process their bill, dropping the change into the tip jar on the counter and wrapping her scarf around her neck again. "You chose to keep yourself away from me all this time. I was there. And you had years! Years to call me, even if it was to say really nothing at all. You chose not to. That is not my fault,"

"I know," he frowned.

"And?" Her eyebrows rose, shocked at his response. That's all he had to say?

"And like I said, you have no idea what I've been through…especially not then…"

In that moment she felt childish, as if she was a spoiled brat who didn't get the answer she'd wanted. Trying her hardest not to put her hands on her hips and go into full temper tantrum mode, she shook her head and walked toward the door. She'd worried for years that he wasn't okay since he'd come home from war. It had been on the forefront of her mind, even after he'd refused to see her. She was being selfish for making him feel guilty about what he'd been going through since his return. No one could understand. Not even her….

"I don't know what you want…" she said seriously. She was trying to ease it up but the emotion he pulled out of her was strong, crazy. She defaulted into panic mode from just seeing him. "But I know what I wanted. I wanted a chance to help you…for us to try everything we'd dreamed about when…" she swallowed, unable to continue. She wasn't about to bawl like a baby in the middle of the city in front of hundreds of passersby.

"I'm home now," he said simply. "It feels right to be back in New York. That's about all I know right now, too," he admitted, stopping at the passenger side of her car. He looked up at the sky when the sleet began to fall down into his hair and smiled. It was breathtaking. It instilled a sense of temporary amnesia, taking her back to a time when that beautiful smile was all she needed to feel calm. He'd been the best medicine in the world back then.

She was confused and angry but he was there. It was his way of trying to do something, she figured, and that was a whole hell of a lot more than he'd done a few years back.

"I don't what I'm doing, Elena," he admitted, stuffing his hands into his pockets so he couldn't move to brush a snowflake off her cheek. "But you're right. I saw you here…through the window. My place is down the road from here. I was out trying to see all the changes since I left this place. And I'm an ass for it, but I couldn't pass you by…"

She stayed silent, afraid to say a word as she opened her car door and motioned to get in. He continued as she slid into her seat.

"I need to go," she said firmly, willing herself to drive away before she ended up puddle of mush at his feet. "Thank you for telling me you're home," she stared straight out, and she didn't even mean it as a dig. "Take care of yourself, Damon."

"I…" he frowned and she waited a minute before she closed the door and started the engine. "Yeah, you take care of yourself, too…" he nodded, catching her eyes once more before she pulled away from the curb and back into the line of traffic. And as the street lights changed from green to red, green to red, she could see him walking in the winter storm, wind whipping through his beautiful hair as he limped. He looked lost and miserable and alone…and even if they were a complete disaster she hated to see him that way.

He squinted as her headlights pulled up next to him on the side of the road. Her window unrolled and she gave him the small, familiar smile she couldn't keep from her lips. "You're walking?"

"Yeah," his cheeks were red and his nose frozen. "Clears the mind,"

"Get in," she leaned over and popped the handle of the door. He stood there for a second, staring at her as if she was crazy before he made a move. "Don't make me say it again," she warned, and he hopped in willingly, pulling the door shut and holding his hands in front of the warm air blowing form her car vents.

Turn by turn he told her where to go, steering clear from anything too deep at first. Then as they pulled in front of his building it seemed he was frozen to his seat.

"I'm not okay, Lena…" he said seriously, and the words broke her heart. "I'm not…" he laughed sadly, looking out the window and up at the sky, praying the cold air would dry his tears before she saw them in the light of the street lamp.

It was a big, deep admission she'd never expected and she wasn't sure what to say.

"I don't know why I'm here now but I know why I couldn't be then," he managed. "And maybe I don't have the right to ask you to understand that, but I'm going to anyway because I can't _not_…" he waited for something, anything from her, but found nothing but silence. "I'm not that boy anymore and I'll never be him again. I don't know how to be…" he shook his head, as if it was the hardest thing he'd ever said but they both knew he'd said plenty of harder things in his life. "You don't have to forgive me for what I did back then, but I just wanted to tell you…in person…that I'm home. I'm not okay, but I'm here. That's the best I can do,"

"Okay," she said after a minute, desperate to get in her car, drive home and throw herself into bed where she could cry and scream and thrash against pillows. No one needed to see how she was really feeling just then…especially not Damon.

"Is that enough?"

"I don't know," she said, but inside she knew that was the biggest lie of her life. Once she got home, got settled and let her heard clear she'd realize she was nowhere close to being done with him. She wasn't sure what they'd turn into or if they'd ever be anything again, but they could never ignore what they'd once been. He clearly had problems and was reaching out to her in a roundabout way. She'd vowed to never let a veteran or soldier go defenseless again. If not for her own heart, she'd keep her promise to herself and to her deceased father. "You tell me,"

"I heard you've been volunteering at the Veteran's hospital," he said, his throat dry. She wondered where he'd found that out but was too tired to think it through. "Talking to soldiers…"

"Yes," she swallowed.

"Would you talk to me?" He asked after a moment. "I haven't talked to anyone since…."

"Yes. I'd never deny someone…"

"Right," he nodded. He was just a someone to her now, he thought, and it was probably his fault. "Well, okay then…" he opened his door and stepped out into the cold. "Thanks for the ride," he rubbed his hands together and she remembered how soft they felt on her skin. She nodded, afraid her voice would break with emotion if she spoke.

"I'll see you soon, then," he added before shutting the door and climbing the cement steps up to his front door. He looked back for a second, catching her eyes one more time threw her now unrolled window and she swore he sent her the smirk she'd been craving for years.

Yes, she was in trouble. Damon Salvatore had come back into her life just when she'd decided to give him up. If she didn't believe in fate, she wasn't sure what this was. She took a breath to clear her head and reminded herself how dangerous this was.

It would start as a conversation…a therapy session, even. He'd talk and she'd listen, but she wouldn't be unbiased as she was with every other soldier. With every little word he said she'd feel like he was talking about her, about them… and it would only be a matter of time before she turned into the sap all over again. What did she do about Matt now…about their practice? She and Damon were nothing right now but she wasn't sure her heart would let it stay that way.

If there was any chance the man she loved was still inside that body of his, she couldn't deny herself the shot. She'd be smart this time, headstrong. But she'd wanted to be those things the first time around and it hadn't worked. He'd helped her find herself once before. Maybe this was exactly what she needed to realize how strong of a person she'd been this whole time.

They'd both changed in the four years since he'd stepped on that plane.

He was home now, he said, and in a way that made more sense than anything had in years. He may have been physically home for years, but from what he let on, that hadn't meant a thing to him. He wasn't right in his head but the look in his eyes told her he wanted to be. Maybe he really _had_ just gotten home…maybe he hadn't broken his promise at all….

* * *

**A/N: Another quick thank you for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one. I've got a busy work season coming up and will try to update when I can. **


	2. Call Me

**A/N: A big thanks for all the reviews/alerts/favorites from the prologue. This chapter is pretty much split in half: past and present, giving a small first look in to the stark differences (and possible similarities) between the old and new versions of Damon and Elena. **

**I've once again picked a Shinedown song, thought won't be using them for every chapter. The chorus in this song fits from both of their perspectives. **

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

**Through the Ghost**

**Chapter One: Call Me**

**2008**

"Are you yawning?" Captain Caroline Forbes smirked at Elena from across their raised, round bar table. "Oh my God, you are! Elena," she whined playfully, "You promised."

"I'm sorry," she shook her head, feeling another yawn pulling at her, "I'm not used to this. It's been a long day. I promised you one drink," her eyes scooted toward the two empty upside-down shot glasses next to her. "I'd say I more than fulfilled my end of the deal,"

"It's 9 p.m. on a Friday night. You're 26-years-old. You can't tell me you'd be sleeping if you were home."

"Correction," she held up her finger, "My body may be here but my mind is still in Germany. It's 4 a.m. to me," Elena tipped her glass against her lips so a cube of ice could slide into her mouth. She chewed it for a few second, squinting across the bar at a group of loud soldiers walked in, hooting and making a scene. "Ugh…they're a mess…" she said out of the corner of her mouth. "And I am way too tired for _this_ tonight…"

They'd be in for it when they were caught being rowdy in public in uniform, she knew. Worst of all she could name off a few of them; Sergeant Kol Mikaelson, Damon…er, Sergeant Damon Salvatore…

Just the sight of him frustrated her. She'd done therapy with him the day before for his ankle and cursed herself for thinking he had nice eyes. They'd barely talked and she'd sworn he'd muttered something along the lines of "grumpy Gilbert" under his breath when she'd turned to look at his chart. But she knew him now, and couldn't watch him make a fool of himself in public….because he was her patient, of course…

She could've kicked herself for that; she'd had a lot of patients over the years and knew better than to take anyone under her wing. So she came off rough and disinterested, as if she didn't care about the men and women she treated, just about ability to serve their ability to serve their country. But inside she was freaking, because for whatever reason, there was something different about _this_ man. He was cocky and challenging and irritated the hell out of her. He didn't behave like a dedicated soldier should; he should know better than to act so foolishly. Now it seemed he had no common sense, either. Her analysis ended when Caroline spoke.

"Oh live a little," she waved her hand in nonchalance. She tipped the rest of her apple martini down her throat and set her empty glass back on the table. "They aren't going to bother us…those guys are out for some tail," Elena frowned at the thought before Caroline continued. She was probably right.

"But back to your jetlag issues…all the more reason to celebrate. How lucky are you to come back from a year-long deployment in Germany and end up at base not too far from home?"

"Maybe," she shrugged, tearing her eyes away from the men. Her shoulders felt heavy. She heaved a sigh, bringing her head back into the game. No more distractions. It was all too easy to get sidetracked these days. "Call me crazy, but I would've gone somewhere tougher in a heartbeat. I kind of came home feeling like I didn't do anything. I'm in this field for a reason. I feel like I'm wasting it…I wanted more,"

"Those soldiers needed you, too," Caroline nodded. "Just as much as the ones in Iraq, Elena. You did your job and now you're home. These women and men need you, too. Be happy. Let's celebrate," she slapped her hand on the table and jumped off her stool. Elena blinked a few times as she saw her new friend walking to the bar, and she knew she wasn't getting out of the rest of the night when the blonde walked back with a thousand kilowatt smile and two shot glasses between her fingers.

"A toast," she set one down carefully in front of Elena. "To your return and to us, the two hottest bitches in the US Army Physical Therapy program," her eyes widened with emphasis as she raised her glass and held it in the air until Elena reluctantly raised hers. "And to the promise I'm about to make you," they clinked glasses before hammering down the alcohol.

Elena cringed, chasing it with a few more ice cubes. "No more promises…please…" she held up her hand with a smile. "I'm waving my white flag here, dammit. You won; you got me to come out with you after two nights of begging," she sighed, her eyes shifting toward Damon again.

"Yes, God forbid you actually try to enjoy yourself for a change," she said sarcastically with an eye roll. "I've only known you five days but I can tell you're too wound up from the time we've spent together."

"We're only ever at the clinic," she said. "Of course I'm going to be serious there,"

"Yeah, our jobs are important but you still have to be you. So let's make a deal, right now. I promise to ease up on you if you promise to at least try to chill out a little. Seriously, what's up with you?"

"I'm having trouble here…at Fort Drum," she clarified. "I know it hasn't even been a week…something's just off. I don't normally have problems with the soldiers but I'm having a hell of a time getting through to this one guy. He just doesn't take me seriously…" she forced herself to meet Caroline's eyes and not give herself away by looking at Damon, but his arm was slung around some blonde bimbo's shoulders and her heart hammered for no good reason.

"You seem plenty focused to me," she smiled. "Well, maybe not right now," she watched Elena adjust herself on the stool slowly, "But all the guys I've heard from have been saying how much of a hard-ass you are," she leaned in and whispered, "Which I still have to thank you for because they are actually being kinder toward me now," she teased. "They are all respectful, but you know what I mean. I get a smile every once in a while. This job has its perks…I'm a woman, too, you know,"

Elena sighed. Caroline Forbes was out of her mind. She was professional on duty but when the fatigues came off, she was a little too candid.

"I don't like distractions," Elena swallowed thickly, her mouth like cotton. "I've been away from New York for years, Care. I'm not the type to get homesick," she laughed with realization, "But being here, so close to my family and friends…I think it's doing things to me. I can't let it. I can't think like that until I have to,"

"You know what?" she smiled. "I think you were put here for a reason," she put her hands on her hips, proud of her realization. "You need to loosen the hell up when you're off duty…starting with your clothes. It's better than fatigues, but you didn't have to wear a sweater and jeans,"

"It's just me," she shrugged. "And it's nice of you to do all this…take me out to welcome me aboard and all that…but I'm afraid I'm not going to turn out the way you think I will," she shook her head. "I'm serious, yeah. And if the guys want to call me a hard-ass that's fine," she swallowed, pausing when she heard yelling from the loud group of men at the table across the room. "But with guys like _that_ out there, someone has to be serious. We can't have the country relying on that for an image of what we do. I want people to be proud of our work,"

"You have nothing to prove, Elena," she shook her head. "We know you're dedicated. You're allowed to have a personality. That's not in the handbook,"

Elena felt her lips turn up in a smile. She wasn't a talker; she didn't have many girl friends as a child and wasn't into the gossip or emotion-vomiting sessions she knew other women her age were. She was safe inside her head, where no one stood the chance to hurt her. Sure, it got too be too much sometimes, but she worked through it. It was nothing she couldn't handle.

But Caroline had a point, too. There was a strong chance she wouldn't always be with the Army. Eventually she'd be a civilian and completely unprepared for that life if she didn't start allowing pieces of reality in now. But they'd been at the bar an hour and were four drinks in. She'd be making no big decisions that particular night.

Elena licked her lips again, fighting the dryness in her mouth. "I think I'm going to head up to the bar and get some water. Did you want some?" She asked, scooting off the stool and onto her feet.

"Yeah, sure," she said, happy Elena hadn't mentioned wanting to leave. Neither of them was in driving-condition, and if they kept it up, they'd be calling Tyler to pick their drunk asses up in a few hours. At least they were smart enough to not wear their uniforms, unlike their comrades a few feet away, she thought.

Through the beat of the bass, Elena squeezed her way through the crowd. In her head she was screaming; she was out of her element and hadn't the slightest idea how to act. And she appreciated Caroline trying to make her feel comfortable, but this was too much too fast. She needed fresh air, to be away from the crowds and the loud music and the annoying men down the way who were disgracing the military with their ludicrous behavior.

If she'd had the energy or willpower to do so, she would've walked right up to the table and told them to quit while they were ahead. Yeah, that wouldn't really help her shake the image they had of her, would it? Grumpy Gilbert. But it wasn't like she really cared…

"Just a water, please," she said to the blonde bartender in the see-through shirt when she looked her way. Great. This girl had just been all over Damon a few minutes ago. She waited for acknowledgement but after a moment realized the woman's smile was directed at the person behind her. Suddenly aware of just how close he was, Elena froze in place.

"Listen, honey," the soldier said to the bartender, "My buddies and I need a few more pitchers of beer…" a chill ran down her spine; he was so close his hot breath reached the back of her neck. His voice was devilishly smooth, almost _too_ smooth for the amount of alcohol he'd consumed. She'd heard it only once before but immediately memorized it. And it was stupid, but she'd know that voice anywhere.

"Of course," the bartender filled two pitchers and slid them to the edge of the counter with a smile. "Let me walk them over for you boys…"

"What'll that be?" He reached in his uniform and dug out his wallet. "Fifteen bucks?"

"On the house for some good men out to protect this country," she batted her eyelashes and Elena felt a gagging sensation rising in her throat. He was staring at the back of her head, hadn't he seen her? He was practically breathing down the back of her stupid, itchy sweater.

"Uh, that's not a good idea," Elena jumped in the middle of the conversation. "I think they've had enough. Now, how about that water?" Elena mentioned again and the bartender snapped her head toward her.

"Uh, what?" Damon said, his voice tickling her skin again. She turned and shot him a quick glare, just fast enough to not get hung up his stupid smile. "Don't listen to her, Daphne," he looked past her and back at the woman behind the counter. "Bring on the beer,"

"Listen, I get it…" Daphne popped her bubblegum in Elena's direction. She could've have been more than 19-years-old. "Ladies first and all that, but can you blame me?" Her New York accent was thick. "I mean look at the guy," she held out her hand to make a point.

"Trust me. I've seen him," Elena rolled her eyes, but despite her better judgment, she did. The alcohol in her veins told her to let herself look at him for more than a second…if only to tell him off, tell him how much of an ass he was making of himself and the Army in front of the crowded bar.

Positioned to say something smart to him, she felt the air leave her lungs when she turned. She'd seen him before under florescent lights, in a bright, normal environment that she was used to, but here was very different. They weren't patient and therapist here.

"Well if it isn't Grumps herself?" He smirked. "Didn't peg you as a barfly, Gilbert. Wait 'til the guys hear about this….you out here kicking my ass for having a good time."

He looked younger, more handsome, the type who got attention wherever he went, she figured. And even someone as clueless as she was about relationships knew a guy like him didn't need to wear his fatigues and get wasted to get that attention. He was a living, breathing, 23-year-old Adonis…even a stuffy hard-ass like herself could see that. And the fact that she'd come to that conclusion twice in a matter of two days told her he wasn't the _only_ one acting stupid that night. She needed to get home before she did something else she'd regret. She was all too interested and courageous.

"We're not talking about me, okay? Why don't you do us all a favor and take your boys and get back to the base. I can already see you hobbling on that bum ankle of yours, so you better get your act together..."

"Listen sweetheart," he focused on her brown eyes for the first time that night and his cocky smile faded. He cleared his throat and started again. "I know what I'm doing…you're not in charge of me, okay? I'm a big boy. I can handle myself. Go back to Forbes and enjoy your fruity cocktails,"

Elena's jaw dropped. "Excuse us," she sent a quick glance at the bartender and grabbed the black haired man by the camouflaged sleeve, dragging him away from the bar to a more secluded area.

"You're a tough little cookie, you know that?" He laughed. "And a confusing one, too. If you wanted to get me alone why didn't you say so?" He almost tripped but steadied himself against the edge of a pool table and crossed his arms. "Didn't have to make a scene in front of Daphne, there…" he nodded when he saw the bartender not-so-smoothly walk past them with a little wave.

"I'm not a cookie. I'm your physical therapist and I'm telling you you're making a complete ass of yourself. Go home, Salvatore,"

Hours later, when this was over and she was alone, she'd wish she'd have minded her own business. But just then she couldn't get past it; the cocky attitude, his irresponsibility…those damn blue eyes.

And the she was having trouble breathing because the bar was hot and crowded, not because he'd knocked her senseless with his stupid lopsided smile. Oh, he was trouble and she could see it coming from a mile away. When anyone else would've just backed off, he matched her dig for dig, and that lit things in her she didn't know she was capable of feeling. Hot, needy things.

Damn it. No time to psychoanalyze herself now…

"What do you care? Afraid I'll hurt myself and you'll have to deal with me for more than just three more weeks?" He smirked.

"Just shut up. I meant what I said. Quit while you're ahead. Call a cab, get some coffee and go home before someone finds you here…like _this_…" she waved her hands in his direction. "Are you trying to get in trouble? Don't you care?"

"I'll be back at Fort Drum in an hour and go right to bed, Mommy," he crossed his heart with his fingers and she rolled her eyes. He pushed himself off the pool table and walked up to her with surprise in his eyes. His little charms hadn't seemed to work on her.

"And another thing, I'm not a barfly. I just had the misfortune of making good on a promise the same night you decided to confirm how much of an idiot you are,"

He frustrated her because he got under her skin, into her head…a place she didn't let anyone go.

"You rushed through our appointment like I was taking up your time. You couldn't get rid of me fast enough yet here you are, trying to do me this 'favor' you keep mentioning."

"Because you said something stupid and offensive right out the gate," she laughed. "You don't walk into my office, so to speak, and tell me I don't know how to do my job,"

"I said you didn't look like the usual physical therapist. Ever think it was a compliment? Take a pill, Gilbert," he laughed, shaking his head. "I don't get you," he said seriously. "So while we're doing each other favors, how about you do me one and keep this between us. I promise I won't tell the guys that you have a heart," he smirked when her mouth fell open.

"You are irritating," she eyed him carefully and her heart danced. Her body was betraying her and she hoped she was the only one who noticed. She was 13 shades of red by now, she was sure, and her heart felt like it was pounding louder than the beat of the music.

"No," he smiled. "I'm fun," he put his hand on her shoulder and looked down into her eyes. "Look at you, all tense," his fingers pressed gently into her shoulder and let out a small gasp at the touch. "I'd think a therapist like you would know how to work this out," he watched her shoulder carefully as it moved under his hand.

Other than medical purposes, she wasn't a touchy-feely person but his hand felt strong and warm. She didn't want to like it but couldn't bring herself to pull away. She was just as bad as that stupid bartender.

Instead of pushing him away, she stared him right in the eyes and acted like everything he'd just said and done didn't boil her blood in the hottest way possible. Courage under fire. "Pent up, maybe?" his eyes searched hers.

"I take it back. You're not just irritating. You're also inappropriate and nosy…" she arched her eyebrows.

"That's a yes. Just because you can't get laid doesn't mean you have to stop me from having a good time. Now I've been working on Daphne all night here, and you stomping your feet and pouting like a jealous girlfriend is going to give her the wrong idea. How about you don't make me look like an asshole, okay?"

"You're doing a fine job of if yourself," she shot back. "You have some serious nerve talking to me like that. You don't even know me. One little therapy appointment does not give you permission to talk to me like this." She swallowed. "You're being rude and inconsiderate."

"So why are you still in front of me?" He arched an eyebrow. When she said nothing, he continued. "You're stone-faced, so excuse me for not realizing you had feelings at risk of being hurt. Sorry," he said, but she knew he hadn't meant the apology. "My bad."

She broke their eye connection and looked down at her feet, a bitter smile gracing her lips. She didn't know why, but she secretly liked the way he pushed her buttons.

"I'm just saying life is short. It's okay to have fun, you know. We're not in prison,"

"Sensible fun….like a drink with an appetizer fun…not this," she felt her face flushing again. "Just think of how this looks to everyone…"

"So what are you doing?" He arched his dark eyebrows. "Sure, you're not in uniform…you're in some kind of sweater thing…" he frowned, "but you're a little more relaxed than you were the other day. Would you call yourself sober right now?" His hand remained on her shoulder for just another moment before she rolled her neck and stepped back, needing air.

"Yes. I would," she answered quickly, not sure if it was a lie. It was hard to tell if she was woozy from the alcohol or the nauseating conversation they were having. "And I'm also done here, so if you'll move out of the way, I'd like to get back to my table, grab my things and get the hell out of here."

And for a moment she thought he wasn't going to move, but without another word he slid to the side and let her walk past with an annoyed look on her face. He watched her closely as she made her way back to her now empty table and spotted Caroline over at the table with Kol and the other guys. A smirk graced his lips when he realized just how much that would piss off little miss grumpy cookie.

The blonde was laughing and smiling at Kol, pouring herself a beer from the pitchers someone had no doubt retrieved after Damon and Elena had walked away. Caroline's eyes widened when they landed on a red-faced Elena walking a few feet ahead of the dark-haired soldier she'd been frowning at earlier.

"Uh-oh," Kol muttered under his breath, taking a swig of his beer. Caroline smiled at the scowl on both of their faces when they approached.

"What took so long?" Kol's eyebrows raised.

"I found something that belongs to you," Elena said to Sgt. Mikaelson, knowing Damon standing right behind her. "You might want to keep better track of him next time. Come on Care. I'm done here," she sent her a pleading look and prayed her new friend would sense something had happened. "I'm not paid to babysit grown men. If they want to ruin their careers, let them,"

"Shit, Salvatore," Kol breathed. Thankfully, Caroline nodded and gave Kol a forgiving smile before grabbing their things and following Elena as she was halfway out the door.

She couldn't get outside fast enough. What the hell had just happened? She told herself it was her duty to step in and talk sense into her fellow soldiers but she could've walked away a lot earlier than she had.

"What was that?" Caroline asked, unable to keep the smile from her lips again. The cold air whipped through Elena's hair, tugging long strands out from her bun and blowing them around the frame of her face.

"That was a distraction," she said, looking up at the sky. "The reason I don't do this kind of thing,"

"He's cute," she admitted.

"He's an idiot," she said but was reminding herself more than she was telling Caroline. Captain Forbes knew all about Damon Salvatore, she was sure. She'd been in the therapy program at Fort Drum for six months before Elena got there.

"Oh God, you're into him," she squealed. "Elena…"

"I hope that was a joke," she shot back. "He's a fool, a baby, Caroline. He's way younger than me and he's going to blow his shot at a good career here."

"He's a little wild," she admitted. "But he's got his reasons. I haven't talked to him much but he's buddies with Tyler and he's told me the guy's all Carpe Diem and all that," she swallowed. "When he's working, though, he's very different. Tyler said he knows his limits…"

"Could've fooled me," she mumbled.

"Why is this bothering you so much?" She laughed. "Kol was there, too, doing the exact same thing."

"To a lesser degree," Elena added. "And by the way, what the hell was with the giggling? Fraternizing with patients, Care? You better be careful. I saw that look in your eyes,"

Caroline couldn't help but smile. Despite what she wanted to admit, the few drinks had loosened her new friend up a bit. "He's cute, but I know better than to do that, don't worry."

And so did Elena. That's why she had to remind herself that as beautiful as Damon Salvatore was, he was an arrogant ass that was completely off limits….and that she wouldn't have wanted him in different circumstances, anyway. Not with an attitude like _that_…

"Because you know what could happen," she swallowed. "And why it's important to stay detached," her voice cracked a bit when she realized she was talking to herself and not her friend. She let out a sigh and walked into a phone booth to dial Tyler to pick them up. He was a good friend and dietitian at Fort Drum.

"Eh, we're not that far away. We walked here…I think we can make it back," Caroline called out and Elena hung up the phone before she dialed. "You're lucky to have a place off base,"

"Sanity purposes," Elena smiled. "I lived on base for years. I'm a private person…I like my space. It gives me time to think. What about you? You did another few shots after I walked away from the table, didn't you? You going to be okay showing up on base like that?"

"Nope," Caroline smiled. "Care to take a drunken soldier home and let me crash at your place?"

And for whatever reason, Elena laughed. It was easier than thinking of what would happen if she'd taken a different drunken soldier home….

Maybe it was the alcohol or the fact that she was overtired, but she felt ridiculously loopy. "Sure. Let's just not make a habit of this, got it? I'll admit, it was kind of nice to have something to do at night for a change, but I think I don't think I'm quite ready for barhopping again anytime soon."

And as they began to walk, she couldn't help but steal a look over her shoulder back at the bar when she heard a familiar loud voice stepping outside. And for a split second, she made distant but powerful eye contact with Damon Salvatore as his arm was wrapped around the narrow shoulders of Daphne. She swore something shifted in his eyes for just a second before he broke the connection and kissed the bartender on the cheek as they walked past them without another glance.

She'd go home and lie in bed, staring at the ceiling while Caroline talked to her from the couch in the living room about the plans she had for when she got out of the military. And she was jabbering on for a while but Elena couldn't make sense of any of it. Her heart was still hammering remembering his touch, his words and the absolute sick feeling in the pit of her stomach when he'd walked away with another woman.

* * *

_**Present Day**_

"Go home, Elena," a brown haired man said behind her, snapping her out of a trance she hadn't realized she'd fallen into. Her eyes came into focus and she looked at the clock on the wall. 9 p.m…no one would be coming in anymore that night. Her volunteer hours had ended an hour ago but she couldn't bring herself to walk out the door.

"Right," she stood up from her chair and smiled at Elijah. "I lost track of the time," she tugged her coat on and buttoned it slowly. It had been a week and a half since she'd run into Damon at the café and she was still waiting for him to walk through those doors and ask for her. She swallowed, frustrated that she'd obsessed about the single conversation they'd had. There hadn't been much to on the surface, but that one honest admission he'd made at the end about his state of mind had her panicked. He wasn't okay. Neither was she, she could argue, but it wasn't even close to the same.

That hollow look in his eyes had nothing to do with their fragile relationship, but her feelings for him often made that easy to forget. Against her better judgment, she'd stopped seeing him as just another soldier shortly after they'd met. It had been exciting and challenging and giving into him was probably the best decision she'd ever made. She'd lost control of herself over him and she still didn't have it back. Maybe if she'd tried a little harder she could've gotten over him…come to think of it she'd never really tried at all. Matt was the biggest attempt at starting over and it clearly wasn't going well.

"What's going on with you lately?" He fastened the buttons of his coat and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "You've been here every day this week. I love the extra help and you're always welcome if this is where you want to be, but aren't you getting worn out? Matt said you've been working full shifts at the clinic, too."

"I'm already worn out," she smiled. "I've been worn out for years," she dug for her keys in her purse as she continued, "And things are crazy for me right now. Believe it or not, I'm calmest when I'm here."

_Waiting for him._

Maybe it he'd just had a moment of weakness last week and she'd never see him again. She'd thought of that and cringed, unable to deal with the idea that he might have changed his mind about wanting to talk to her. And it was dangerous to feel the way she did, because if he did walk through those doors and sit down with her, she wouldn't hear the story of a stranger like she had so many times before. Those had been sad and hard enough at times…thinking that those men were people's husbands, fathers, sons… that someone loved them and waited for them the way she'd waited for Damon… there was no such thing as _just_ a soldier. Loving one made that clear.

She'd wanted to be there for him for years and he hadn't let her. She couldn't let her head and fears stop her from being supportive. There were veteran hospitals in Chicago. She'd figured he'd talked to Alaric when he'd moved to Chicago but now knew that hadn't been the case. He'd said he hadn't talked about it since he got back and that terrified her. He was very likely behind the haze of PTSD and she'd give anything to be the one to help pull him through. He'd come home to New York City for a reason and Elena needed to believe that reason was her.

But she couldn't shake the memory of the blank look in his eyes. He'd always been so witty and snarky. She mourned the man she loved and that was a problem. He may very well never be that man again; she'd have to learn to accept that if she wanted to know him.

Disappointed that she'd found her keys without much effort, she walked through the foyer after Elijah opened the door for her. She wasn't ready to go home. The sooner she went to sleep the sooner she'd wake up and have to see Matt at the clinic. She was having enough trouble as it was looking him in the eye and she hadn't gotten around to mentioning her encounter with Damon the week before. The longer she waited the harder it was going to be to explain.

It would be hard to keep the emotion out of her voice when she said Damon's name and no matter how uncertain she was about her feelings for Matt, she didn't want to break his heart. If she let herself think about it long enough she knew how it was going to end. Matt was patient but he wasn't going to sit there and watch her fall all over herself for Damon again…not even as a friend. She was going to lose one of them.

The not-so-funny part was the men knew each other. They'd only met once but it had been enough for each of them to form an opinion of the other. And it had been Matt's arms she'd fallen into when Damon turned her away. It wasn't enough, however; as long as Damon Salvatore was breathing, it never would be. The more she thought about it, she'd already made her decision. She couldn't keep Matt as a placeholder until Damon was ready. There was a chance he may never want her again…that maybe he really just wanted to talk to someone, be a friend…but she saw the twinkle in his eyes every night as she fell asleep. It gave her hope she could only pray was worth something.

"Well, anyway, take care of yourself, okay? You're one of the favorites here, you know. We care about you and don't want you to burn out," Elijah unlocked his car door and popped it open. "Tell Matt trivia at Chumpy's got moved to Thursday this week," he added. "I can't have my buddy missing out on the tournament. The guy's a pop culture wizard. See ya, Elena." He gave her a little wave and pulled away from the curb.

Yeah, she was in a tangled up mess of men. Maybe it was a good thing Damon hadn't shown up that night. Elijah and Matt were close and the veteran visits were supposed to be confidential, but if Matt saw her no-doubt cozied up to one very dark haired, blue-eyed man, she was certain he'd accidentally say something to his friend. Her mannerisms spoke volumes when she was near Damon.

"Am I too late?" some version of a velvet voice said from behind her.

She jumped, taking a deep breath of cold air and spinning around at his words. Coughing out the cold air at the sight of him, her hand moved up to massage her throat with a frown.

"Damon, you scared me." Her heart was pounding so hard she could barely hear herself speak. Or think. She drank him in, hair thick enough to blow in the wind, stubbly cheeks and lips just begging to fall into that lopsided smile she knew and loved. He was a masterpiece of a man. The way he was looking at her on that cold street was enough to heat her more than any look Matt had ever given her. Even in bed. Yeah, she was still in trouble with a capital T.

"Didn't mean to," he shrugged, hands still in his pockets. "I can come back another time," he tipped his head toward the building. His eyes drifted along her features, floating slowly from her wavy hair to her mascara to her red lips. She'd always been pretty to him…had been even in camouflage...but she'd dressed up for him once, just before he'd gone. If it was even possible, she was more beautiful now.

"Looks like you have somewhere to be," he managed before he felt his throat tighten.

"No…" she said quickly. The lipstick was absolutely for him and she was a fool because of it.

She was thankful she'd told Matt she'd be too tired to hang out that night. He'd commented that she'd been spending a lot of time volunteering lately and that he was concerned she wasn't getting enough down time. He was always so considerate….always so afraid to say anything that might hurt her feelings. It made life easy. And boring…just the way she _used_ to like it.

"I was just going home to a book anyway,"

Suddenly she felt guilty for not mentioning her relationship with Matt. They'd barely said fifty words to each other and she felt the need to spill every moment of indiscretion in the last four years. She would tell him, but not like this. The more she thought about it, there wasn't much to tell. She'd ended up with Matt by default when the ground had come up from underneath her. If she was anyone else, she'd take the guy up on every offer he gave her and never let him go. But she'd learned a long time ago that she couldn't be anyone but herself. No matter how they might end up, Damon Salvatore would always be someone important in her life.

He blinked at her a few times, hoping he could come up with something to say before she turned on her heels and got in her car. He saw her stifle a yawn and couldn't hide a tiny smirk. He remembered a time when she was too stubborn to admit any weakness, even exhaustion. He'd been looking at the same picture of her for years; this new, beautiful but overtired version in front of him wore him down.

And when he said nothing in response to her setup, she sighed in frustration. Talking to Damon these days was like pulling teeth. And she could've been stubborn and made him be the one to suggest it, but there was a good chance they'd stand there and stare at each other all night if she wasn't the one to speak first.

"Come on," she relocked her car and stepped a few feet forward, sinking her gloved hands in her pockets and looking back at him. "Let's go."

"Where?" He asked, his breath lingering in the cold air for a second.

"Anywhere. You're choice," she said. "Now come on. If you've changed your mind and you don't want to talk to me it's okay. There are other volunteers. This is just a walk, okay? No big deal. We're just us…"

He eyed her carefully, wondering how it was possible that she was even talking to him. He was lucky as hell, he knew. It was a damn shame he'd probably disappoint her and say the wrong things.

"What's that mean?"

"I have no idea," she admitted sadly. "So let's just go,"

"Yeah, okay," he gave her a nod, stepping so he was next to her. Elena was a naturally fast walker but she slowed her stride when she was reminded of his limp. Choking back the urge to flat out ask him what had happened, she tried to ignore it. And she felt insensitive for avoiding it but had heard plenty of stories about people not wanting sympathy for injuries. For all she knew he'd strained his foot walking around the city.

They walked in silence for a few blocks, hearing nothing but the buzzing of the city. Every once in a while she'd glance in his direction, searching for some expression that would tell her what he was looking for. But he was stone-faced, as if he couldn't have cared less if she was there or not.

She stopped when they reached a corner, waiting for the WALK sign to indicate it was safe to go. Standing in a clump of strangers, she realized just how emotionally distant they were.

"It's weird, you know," he said, his eyes moving from one bright building to the next. "You'd think all big cities are the same…but they aren't," she looked up at him just before the group began to walk. "Chicago was different."

The knot in Elena's stomach tightened. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? She wanted him to talk to her. As painful as the answers were, she was desperate to know why he'd moved anywhere but back home to her two years ago. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't separate solider from man when it came to him. Selfishly, she fit herself into equations she didn't always belong in. He'd had a life before they met, despite what he once told her.

"Which was exactly what I wanted at the time," he continued. "I couldn't come here,"

"Why?" The word flew out of her mouth in a cry. It had been on the tip of her tongue for years and it was all too easy to lose her self-control around him. They started to walk slower now. She noticed his leg bothering him and fell into an easier pace.

"Because I didn't want to be me," he stopped, frowning. "I thought I could start over…" His honesty tore into her. She took a breath and wished, more than anything, that she'd stayed that unemotional, bull-headed woman she used to be. It would be far easier to listen if everything he said didn't subliminally tell her he just hadn't wanted _her_.

"You know why I went there…" he swallowed, comforted by her tiny nod.

Yeah, if she really thought about it, it made sense. The first time he told her about his childhood had been hard enough, but to think of it now, knowing how alone he seemed made it feel so much worse.

"I thought I'd maybe figure out what I would've been if things had gone differently for me…and since I had a buddy there I picked Chicago. At the time it seemed like the right thing to do…I didn't want to be alone,"

Ugh. Was he not thinking before he spoke? Couldn't he hear the words coming out of his mouth? He could've rebuilt himself there, with her, if he'd given her the chance to show him how sure she was. But she'd sound ignorant and selfish if she threw her own feelings in the conversation when he was trying to vent years-worth of issues.

"And it was rough at first. That first year was bad…" he swallowed. "_Really bad_," he repeated, letting his eyes find hers in the dark. "I didn't want to be found, Elena,"

"I know," she managed. She didn't have it in her to ask why he'd turned her away without even seeing her face. She was sure if they'd just linked eyes back then, if even for a second, things would be far different now. He'd taken that chance from them and there was no fixing it, but people got second chances all the time; she needed to believe this was theirs, somehow.

"I didn't think you'd find me there. When Alaric came in that back room and told me you were out there, just a few feet away from me…shit, I lost it," he admitted. "How did you find me?"

"The newspaper," She said slowly, sniffling from the cold air, remembering how crazy she'd been back then. Desperate to find him, she'd subscribed five major newspapers online, searching the obituaries, searching the war snippets daily for his name. His expression changed at her confession. He knew that article hadn't made it to The New York Times.

"The Chicago Tribune had an feature about you and your shop with Alaric….I knew you were born there so I wasn't surprised to see they'd done a story about a hometown hero come home from war…" She managed. "But you want to know something? I never read past the first two paragraphs…I couldn't make it that far. Not even after you sent me away,"

She hadn't known what happened to him or why he'd come home limping. If her parents or Matt knew, they hadn't said a word. Any mention of his name sent her into panic and they couldn't stand to see her that way.

A part of her knew she hadn't read it because she'd hoped he'd tell her in person; it would be too impersonal to read the words printed on some paper by a reporter who didn't really know the man behind the story. And once he'd rejected her she'd told herself over and over to stop thinking about him. But that hadn't worked, clearly. Now she sounded like she was throwing herself a pity party and he was invited.

"Good," he swallowed. "I didn't want you to find out that way….I didn't want you to find out period..."

"Why wouldn't you want me to know you were home, Damon? I spent months, _years_ waiting…" realizing how self-centered she sounded, she stopped. "All that mattered to me was that you were safe…all the rest of it…we'd have worked through it…"

"I wasn't talking about you knowing I was home. You'd have found out eventually…I just thought it would take a little longer and I might have been more ready if it had. The truth is, my head isn't the only fucked up, Lena. We just walked a few blocks and I know you noticed I'm not the quickest."

"That's okay," she shook her head.

"No, please," he sent her a pleading stare. He wasn't good at admitting he was afraid, but she heard his desperation loud and clear and she wanted to be there for him. "Let me finish before I back out, okay?" She nodded slowly, afraid of the path they were about to tread.

Without another word, he sat down on a bench and lifted up his pant leg by the ankle. The wind was knocked right out of Elena's sails when her eyes fell on a prosthetic foot. And she thought he kept talking, but she couldn't hear herself think over the blood rushing through her ears. Her hand flew over her mouth just before she let out a loud gasp.

Nauseated at the thought of Damon going through this amount of pain, she leaned back against the bench and swallowed through the ache of her throat and looked up at the sky. On the inside, she fought for the strength to move forward. She hadn't even heard the cause of it and was already losing it.

Then it hit her; that piece of him was gone. She'd been treating that very ankle when they'd met. The very first part of him she'd ever touched was gone. The look in his eyes told him he knew it, too. He cleared his throat, hoping to get past the tension in her eyes.

"I don't want to scare you," He warned. "I can't talk about it, so please don't ask. I just needed to get this out of the way..."

"I'm not afraid," her voice was broken, "I'm…I'm…" despite her best effort to stay strong for him, she crumpled. And when the sob caught in her chest, she stood up from the bench and took a few steps forward, praying the fresh, cold air would help straighten out her emotions. She was silently sobbing and not hiding it well; he'd have had to be blind to not see it. When her sobs turned to something worse, he stepped in.

He was numb to a lot of things these days, but the sight of Elena's shaking shoulders in front of him kicked him in the gut. And for the first time in a long time he could identify his feelings; he was angry…but not with her. When he looked down at his foot at night he saw more than physical pain. The memory of how it happened still ate away at him every day. It had been that event that started his downward spiral. Up until that point, he'd still dreamed of seeing Elena when he got home… of falling to his knees before her and wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and never letting go.

But then he'd become a coward with a few too many screws loose.

She felt him come up behind her. The heady scent of his black leather coat attacked her senses and if she hadn't been damn near hysterical, she would've found it sexy. His hands hovered above her shoulders, shaking. After a few seconds of deliberation, they rushed through his thick hair and fell back to his sides. He was afraid to touch her but he had to something.

"Breathe," he whispered just inches from her neck, sending that familiar chill down her spine as it had so many times before. She squeezed her eyes shut and let her tears slide down her cheeks as she listened to him. He might be a broken mess, but he could still calm her.

He'd eased her down from panic attacks before, however minor they had been. Her erratic breathing told him she was close to the point of no return now. Her face fell into her hands and she took a few breaths, telling herself it was going to be okay. He was alive and was walking; it could be so much worse; she could be talking to a headstone.

It was a combination of everything. His raw words about why he'd chosen Chicago on top of the fact that he'd lost a foot had sent her into a tailspin and she couldn't get out of it.

"Take a breath, Lena…you're okay," he said, but had trouble believing his own words. She'd started to have mini-attacks just before he'd been deployed but he'd associated them with grief. As she gasped, wide-eyed now before him, he wondered just how bad they'd gotten when he was away. How many times had she suffered without him there to comfort her?

"My medicine," she whispered. "My purse…my pills, Damon," she turned to him with glassy eyes. Through the black spots dancing before her eyes, she could see his eyes; they were her lighthouse. His eyebrows knit together in confusion and he reached behind them to grab her purse off the bench, realizing they'd left it unattended and thankful it hadn't been stolen. He'd been so busy worrying about his own issues that he hadn't thought of what life had done to Elena in his absence.

"Uh…" he frowned. "I don't want to dig around in here…" he said, but when she gave him a pleading nod, he located the bottle and handed it to her. "Here…" he pulled a half-drunk bottle of water from his pocket and unscrewed the cap.

As the pill slid down her throat she sniffled, realizing she'd just fallen to pieces in front of him. She'd blown it; he'd never tell her anything again if she'd react like this with every new piece of information. What the hell kind of volunteer was she?

She let out a breath and waited for the medicine to kick in. More than anything in the world, she needed to be held. Time hadn't erased the way he'd held her in his arms and rubbed her back in circles until her breathing got back to normal. He recognized the scared look in her eyes and it terrified him. He wasn't capable of fixing her now. He couldn't even fix himself.

He stood still in place, hands at his sides and let her walk against him. She pressed her forehead into his the hollow of his neck and breathed in the smell of his skin. She remembered everything she missed about them…especially how just the feel of him against her soothed her. She'd been missing that feeling for far too long; as hard as he tried, Matt couldn't calm her down. A sick feeling of guilt washed over her, but she stayed in place, waiting for his arms to wrap around her back. His hands never came; he stood motionless, as if afraid to do or say the wrong thing. And she stayed there for a few minutes until she felt the calm wash over her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to make this night about me," she sniffed.

"You're fine, but that's enough for tonight," he said, breaking his fifteen minutes of silence. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking when I just showed you like that. I should've started with something smaller. I don't know how to do this. I don't _want_ to do this…."

And for a moment, the lover in her emerged, forgetting his mistakes and only hearing and feeling his sorrows. "We have to," she smiled sadly and he caught the shine in her brown eyes. "Look at us, Damon. We have to…" she nodded. "Whatever happens, we can't go on like this…"

"I'm an asshole," he managed. "But you've always known that,"

She shook her head and looked down again, staring at his booted foot. If it hurt this badly knowing bits and pieces of his history, she couldn't imagine having lived it.

"Come on, don't cry," he pled. "I thought I was ready. I thought I'd be easier for me to talk to you than some stranger… If you want me to talk to someone else, I can. If this is too much…" He could remember a time when she'd barely cracked a smile. Now her emotions ran with abandon and he wasn't sure how to respond.

She was a physical therapist; it wasn't as if she'd never seen a mechanically engineered foot before. But seeing it on him gave her sickening images of his beautiful skin blown into thousands of tiny little pieces. She wasn't devastated because he wasn't whole anymore. She ached that he'd been alone through it all, up until now.

"No," the word flew from her lips. "I want it to be to be me," she assured him. And she didn't dare tell him she was afraid; although he seemed like half the man he used to be, she was sure he'd be quick to pull the plug on his story again if he saw she was upset. She feared he'd see himself as a burden and that was very untrue. He had no idea how very much she wished he'd have laid it all out for her years ago. Now, here he was, still buried in nightmares and alone, begging without words for her to forgive him.

"I thought I was ready," he tried again, catching the shine in her eyes again. "But this isn't something I can blurt out all at once. It might take a while…weeks…months…years…" he swallowed. "I might never get it all out. It's not right of me to ask you to be there for me through it…not after what I did to you back in Chicago. I wanted to let you go, Elena," he said honestly. "I wanted you to forget me…find a life with someone who could take care of you and be what you needed…"

She was hit with a tidal wave of guilt that she hadn't mentioned Matt. They hadn't talked much about her life and it hadn't really come up, but he was talking long-term here, even if only as friends. "I need to tell you something," she frowned. There was no way to sugar-coat it and she wasn't sure it would've mattered anyway. Damon was there, seeking something with her, but he was distant and it was very unclear what his intentions were. Honesty was the way to go.

"I'm with Matt," she blurted, cursing herself for the sour taste her confession left in her mouth. "I mean, we're together." His eyes narrowed for a second and she swore she saw life moving in his usually vacant stare. "I just thought you should know…" she swallowed.

She didn't have the heart to go into just how much she doubted her relationship. That was too heavy and far too deep for them at that point. They could barely get through a normal sentence without someone wincing. However lackluster her relationship with Matt was, it existed and Damon deserved to know that.

"Okay," she thought she heard him say, lowering himself back on the bench.

"I'm not sure it matters to you, but I just don't want to lie…"

"Matt Donovan," he said with a small, defeated smile. "I'd never have guessed,"

The image of the men shaking hands with narrowed eyes flashed into her memory. They'd repeat that moment soon enough if Damon wanted to be in her life. But this time she'd be on the other man's arm. She couldn't tell if that would bother him or not.

"Me either," she admitted, but bit her tongue before she could go any further. Of course she hadn't pictured it; she thought she'd be with Damon forever. "But that doesn't mean I'm not here for you," she pulled her hands out of her pockets and rest them gently on her lap on the bench, looking into his eyes. "No matter how long it takes…no matter how hard it is…"

"But your anxiety," he frowned. "It's gotten worse,"

_Take a pill, Gilbert…_ the words of their second encounter echoed in his memory. The whole night did. And it hadn't been that way back then, but if he could go back and change the way that night had gone, he would.

"I'm not worried about me," she shook her head now. "I don't worry about me…"

"Well you should," he raked his hand through the back of his hair. She worked with veterans all the time, listening to them talk about war or pain or nothing at all. "How bad is it?"

She hadn't really thought about it; she buried herself in her work and allowed herself little time to dwell on her own state of mind. Overall, she was good. She didn't have an attack every day anymore. Matt was so normal it was sickening. He had a way of making her feel crazy anytime she took a pill, so she often had to hold it together until she could excuse herself to take her medicine in private.

"How do you sit through those guys' stories, Elena?" He frowned. He hadn't shown much emotion since he'd come back but he sounded genuinely concerned about her. "Doesn't it get to you? It would get to me,"

"I'm fine there," she said softly. "It's…therapeutic. I've been listening for years…since I left the military. It's the way I stay connected. I couldn't help you when you were gone, Damon…I had to help someone…"

"I guess you'll always be angry with me for turning you away," he said seriously. "But you're here with me now. So what happens when this all sinks in and you remember what I did?"

"I'll always be hurt, Damon," she corrected. "I get that you were going through some things that I'll probably never fully understand, but I can't wrap my head around you pushing me away without seeing me," she paused for a moment. "But let's not get into that right now. We just started talking and I just calmed down. I don't want to throw that elephant back in the room,"

"It will always be in the room," he reminded her. "Just like it always has. Look, maybe I went about things the wrong way when you came to find me, but I can honestly say I didn't want you to see me like that. Someday maybe I'll be able to explain it better, but this is all I can do and I hope it's enough for you to forgive me. It had nothing to do with me not caring about you. What happened just now proves I was right to be cautious…"

"Please don't say you were thinking of me when you turned me away," she begged.

Elena sniffled in the cold air and touched her nose with her glove. And he surprised her by placing his hand on her knee when she met his stare again.

"I broke a promise," he finally said. "And no matter what kind of shape I was in, I should've told you myself. I wasn't ready to talk back then, or to feel the way I thought I would when I came home. Being here with you is…hard,"

She frowned at his words but tried to remember that he'd just told her she wasn't the cause of his agony. "I've always been a loner, Elena. I guess I lucked out that I didn't have a bunch of people waiting for me to get off that plane and run into their arms."

"You had one. I waited for you every day…" she reminded him and she felt his hand stiffen and pull away from her knee. Her heart ached when she realized she'd gone too far. "I'm sorry…"

"Don't be," he breathed, leaning back against the bench. "I could barely look at myself in the mirror let alone let you see me. It was selfish," he said. "And I sound like a pathetic fool now,"

"No," she whispered. "You sound like a man who has had to deal with too much for too long with no outlet. And you're a little more serious and a lot less cocky than you used to be, but I still see you," the wind picked up and let her hair out into the breeze. "And I'll be here when you need me. I promise,"

He didn't dare ask where Matt fit into the equation.

"Thank you," he breathed, standing up from the bench and waiting for her to join him. "Sorry this didn't turn out the way you probably thought it would," he gave her an apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It'll get easier,"

"I don't think so," he said seriously. "I've been home for two a half years and it hasn't yet. Maybe I was better off sucking it up and dealing on my own. Now I've gotten you all worked up and it's getting us nowhere," he swallowed. "I feel worse than I did before."

"It has to get worse before it can get better," she said softly, stretching her hand toward his. His expression lightened at the familiar words. He knew them well; he'd used them on her just before he'd left for Iraq. "You're done with the really bad parts. You're home," she smiled, though inside she was bawling. They were too far apart and it hurt.

He searched her eyes for a minute, wishing so badly he could be what she wanted. He glanced down at the gloved hand stretched toward him, waiting and took a step forward, slipping his fingers between hers loosely. The warmth of her hand tugged at his broken heart; a lot of things had gone wrong in his life, but everything about being with Elena still felt right.

It would be a slow burn this time, with a lot of heartache and a lot of anger, but if he was going to get through it, it would be with her…for her. Every decision he'd made overseas had been for her, for them, including the one that had saved his life. He was no survivor; he was a coward.

And just when his thoughts were getting too heavy, the subject changed. She took a deep breath as they stopped at a traffic light, staring off at a food cart on the other side of the street. "So…you still like pizza?"

"You know I do," he sighed, relieved. He'd imagined her tolerating him at best; but she was holding his hand, fighting through tears to get them over their awkwardness to somewhere close to familiar. "Missed my New York thin crust,"

And just as she was about to suggest they grab a slice, she felt the buzzing of her phone in her purse. Refusing to let go of his hand she searched through the compartments with her free hand until she found it. He saw her cringe when she read the screen and held it up for him to see a big **MATT**with a picture of him smiling at her.

"I have to take this," she apologized, and he dropped her hand. She plugged her ear with one finger and held the other phone in her other hand as they crossed the street.

"No…I'm heading home now," she said seriously. "What? I thought we were taking the night off…" Damon felt the familiar surge of something eating at his stomach but refused to define it. "Yeah I ended up taking a walk…I'm walking back to my car…I guess I'll see you in a few minutes, then…"

He couldn't help but notice she'd made a lot of excuses and hadn't smiled once during their conversation. She wasn't _exactly_ lying; she was just choosing to leave Damon out of it for now. It wasn't like anything was happening between them to be concerned about. But Damon wasn't going anywhere, he said, and neither was she. He may end up being a different part of her life than she'd once imagined, but she was willing to take any part of him he'd give her. And if he still loved her, well…

"Rain check on the pizza," she breathed. "I need to get home."

"You haven't told him you've seen me, have you?" He frowned. "He has no idea I'm back,"

"No," she confirmed. "I'm going to…" she promised. "When the time is right,"

"You're lying to him then," he stated. "For me,"

She opened her mouth to say something but couldn't find the words. He was right.

"Why?" He asked straight-faced, as if he had absolutely no idea why she'd bother.

"You know why," she said softly and waited for his answer but it never came. Instead he tucked his hands back into his pockets as they walked slowly back to her car without saying another word.

"Come on," she said finally, tipping her head toward her car.

"Go ahead," he gestured toward her car. "I think I'm going to stop for some coffee on my way home. Not tired," he winced in the cold air. She nodded and slid into her car and he walked around to her door.

"Lena…" he said quickly, grabbing her door before she closed it. "Don't ruin your relationship for me," he warned. "It's not worth it. I'm not worth it…"

"I'm a big girl, Damon. I can handle myself," she caught a small smile playing on his lips and felt a rush of relief. It seemed all the bad he'd seen in the world hadn't completely erased his memory of what they'd shared in their short relationship. When it had been good, it had been blissful. There was no denying what flowed between them; it was chemistry, and it was still there, waiting.

He watched her write her phone number down on a piece of paper and hand it to him. "Keep this…and call me," she said, staring into his eyes. "I don't care what time and I don't care for how long,"

"Elena…" he held his hands up, indicating he didn't want to cause trouble.

"Just shut up and take it, okay?" She felt tears filling her eyes at the chance of rejection. She was a mess. She needed her bed, by herself, and a pint of ice cream or two to think about what the hell she was going to do. And here she'd thought deciding to not rejoin the military had been the hardest choice she'd ever made!

He hesitated for just a second longer before taking the paper slowly and tucking it into his front pocket. "I'm sorry for this…" he said, but he wasn't sure what he was apologizing for and neither was she.

She smiled lightly as he closed the door and she drove off. Damon kicked a clump of dirty snow with his good foot and watched her drive away. He'd come home to reinvent the Damon Salvatore everyone thought they knew, but being with Elena drew him back to a time he used to love himself. And he'd loved her…probably still did…

Because every single night he closed his eyes in Iraq he dreamt of Elena and the life they'd have. She'd never come out and said it, but he always believed she'd loved him, too. They'd survived hell to be together and for what? Him to send her into anxiety attacks on a cold busy street? Jesus, what the hell was he even doing? He was stupid if he thought he could live the rest of her life away from her. The way he loved her back then was the only part of himself he still liked.

Why else would he come back after all these years? He'd thought home was anywhere in America, that he'd be fine on his own. But his heart told him he was a liar. He'd felt more at home on that military base than he had in his own house. Home was with Elena, wherever she was. For her sake he wished it wasn't that way.

He was a selfish fool. He couldn't handle the thought of her driving home, losing her clothes and crawling into bed with another man…even if that man was clean and safe and far better than Damon could ever be.

Yeah, he knew how his night would go. He'd spend the rest of his night hobbling around in the cold, willing himself not to fall off the wagon and buy a forty of beer and drink until he forgot the way her skin felt against his. Then he'd fall into his daily routine. He'd force himself to take a shower and try to look in the mirror and see someone new…someone sane…someone free.

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A/N: Thanks for reading!


	3. Writing On The Walls

**A/N: A head's up: this chapter was brutal to write. I promise they won't all be killers like this one, but in order to understand, it's necessary right now. I've chosen to do an all present day chapter to not draw away from current feelings. The past stuff is coming, and it's going to be wonderful to write. I look forward to it! **

**I picked 10 Years' "Writing On The Walls" for this one. The melody is haunting and its lyrics fit Damon this go around. So I've dedicated this chapter to him. Thanks for reading! **

* * *

**Through the Ghost**

**Chapter 2: The Writing On the Walls**

"Open this door, right now," Elena pressed the apartment buzzer on the front of Damon's building and yelled into the speaker. "I'm serious, Damon. You don't just call me and leave a message like that and leave me hanging, you got it?"

She took in a cold lungful of air and coughed, wishing he'd have enough decency to at least let her into the lobby and out of the wind. He was still stubborn as hell; that part of his personality hadn't changed. She waited another moment until another resident of the building turned her key in the lock and entered the lobby, holding the heavy door open for Elena to walk through. For once she was thankful the city didn't sleep at night. Had they been in suburbia, his neighbors would've been long asleep and she'd be the idiot in the cold.

Inside, she rubbed her hands together and looked at her phone. It was 1 a.m…just an hour after he'd tried calling her. After programming the number in her contacts, she'd dialed him back at least 20 times and received no answer. That had been enough to shock her awake.

_Hi...I'm sorry. _He'd said nothing else for a solid minute and she'd almost thought that was all he was going to say, but she'd held on the line until she'd heard his rough voice continue, _You said I could call if I needed to, but I guess I'm glad you didn't answer…I can't do this…I don't want to do this…._

She'd flown up in bed when she heard her phone ringing, nearly elbowing Matt as she reached for it across the nightstand. Through sleepy, confused eyes, he'd asked her if she was okay and she'd simply told him it was a wrong number and to go back to sleep. Then she'd slid out of bed and crept down his hallway to a place she could listen to the message without interruption. And he'd trusted her so much that when she'd flipped on a small light and thrown on her clothes to tell him she had to leave he didn't question it. It wasn't the first time she'd left abruptly in the middle of the night. He chalked it up to her anxiety, something he wasn't so good at dealing with or understanding.

The worry sat on her chest, heavy and powerful as she hopped in her car and navigated a mile north to the building she'd dropped Damon off at just two weeks before. She'd been waiting for his call since she'd given him her number a few days before. She wasn't angry he'd called her in the middle of the night if he really needed her; she was terrified that he'd sounded so hollow and depressed.

She eyed a set of mailboxes inside the wall and found "Salvatore" labeled on apartment 4. In a second, she was up the stairs with only a white door between her and the man who needed her more than either of them knew. She raised her hand to the knock but thought better of it. He wouldn't answer. He was home, she knew, because he'd answered the first time she pressed the bell. But after her incessant buzzing thereafter, it was clear he didn't want her there. It was just too damn bad, wasn't it? Because she wasn't leaving until she knew he was okay.

Her hand shook as it found the bronze knob and turned. And as the door clicked open, worry shot through her at what she might be walking into. She closed her eyes and thought of the man with the high and tight haircut and the big blue eyes, whispering he loved her and would never let her go. And he hadn't let go, had he? She'd just missed his call.

"Damon," she called out before entering, afraid to look through the crack of the door. "I'm coming in…" she warned, pushing the door lightly, opening it just a crack more. "I'm scared here…can you please say something?"

Her heart slammed in her chest when she heard footsteps near the door. She put her hand firmly in the middle of it, ensuring he wouldn't close it on her. And when it started to budge closed, she pushed it wide open to reveal the saddest thing she'd ever seen.

Her mouth fell open at the sight. He'd always rendered her speechless but not like this. His eyes were cold and shaky as if he didn't recognize her. She took him in slowly and painfully; it physically hurt her to see him this way. He stood before her in a stained white t-shirt and jeans with a scruffy beard and messy hair, leaning against the wall. When her eyes caught sight of his legs, she noticed but one booted foot.

She moved to push the door further open but he held out his hand, stopping her. "You can't come in here," he warned, his voice rough as if he'd been yelling….or sobbing. She couldn't tell. "Go home…"

"No," she said, her voice breaking. "Damon, it's 1 in the morning," she watched as his eyes floated along her, taking in her messy ponytail and puffy eyes. "And _you_ called _me_, remember?"

"I shouldn't have. I made a mistake," he said firmly. "I didn't want you to come here."

"Yes, you did," she shook her head, her stare boring into his icy eyes. "You don't call someone at midnight and leave a message like that and expect them not to show up. You knew I'd come here…"

He shot her a frustrated and helpless glance and she let out a sigh. Now wasn't the time to go back and forth about who was right and who was wrong. She swallowed and pushed the door open again, stepping inside with just one foot, waiting for him to move aside. "I'm coming in…now move," she arched an eyebrow, challenging him.

After a moment he worked his way backward, unable to fight anymore. He'd called her. He'd wanted here there…of course he had. He'd stopped himself from calling her at least four times since she'd given him her number, and finally he'd lost it. And he'd done in the middle of the night, desperate to stop himself from doing what he'd regret. But she hadn't answered and it hadn't worked. If anything, it had made it worse.

At first she didn't see his apartment. Her eyes were focused solely on him and his rough condition. Frowning she knelt down by his feet and pulled up his pant leg. He cringed and moved to pull away but she stared up at him with pleading eyes and he stayed. "Why are you up without it?"

"Because I hate it," he managed. "I'd rather try and get around without it than hobble around on that stupid thing as if I'm lucky to be upright," They hadn't talked about his feelings on his prosthetic piece before, but she wasn't surprised he felt that way. Many of her patients had gone through the same thing. It was foreign and reminded them of what it was like when they'd had the real thing. She'd thought he'd been a little too quick to show it to her a few nights back. "It's uncomfortable,"

"We'll get you a better one," she said comfortingly, naturally. She was already so heavily invested in this new situation. "If you'd like," she added carefully, knowing it was never a good idea to tell someone what they should do with their own body. Being self-sufficient was part of the healing process. She couldn't be the sad former love of this man right now. She had to be strong. "Is that why you called me? It's okay if it is,"

"No," he said harshly, pulling his hand away when she reached for it. In a flash she moved in front of him, letting her guard down for the first time since he'd come home and showing him the concern in her big brown eyes. Surely he'd ease up if he knew she wasn't there to scold him. After she saw his chest heave in a sigh, she reached for his hand again, noticing a cut along his palm.

"What happened to you?" She was careful not to touch the wound, afraid she'd risk infection. Her eyes widened as she saw a few more cuts on the top of his forearm. He didn't answer, just drew her attention for the first time to his apartment. Shattered glass lay on the ground and overturned chairs and a coffee table were strewn about the room. When she gasped, he interrupted her before she could speak.

"Please just go," he said again.

"Are you kidding me?" She said with a frown. "No way am I leaving you," she stepped carefully through the broken glass, turning the furniture upright and staring down at an empty bottle of whiskey. She didn't know a lot about this version of Damon but something told her he shouldn't be drinking. Not the way he used to…

Afraid she'd sounded too judgmental she softened her expression and turned back to him. He didn't need a life coach just then, he needed a friend. He needed her and he'd known it. He wouldn't have called if he was okay.

She wondered if this mess had happened before or after he'd called her. She wasn't sure she had the strength to find out. Slowly Elena picked up the bottle and threw it in the kitchen trash.

It was a hell of a first visit to his apartment. She was too rattled to take in much other than the mess, but she was able to locate the bathroom where she would hopefully find Band-Aids and some kind of antiseptic. He didn't seem to take very good care of himself, so she was relieved to find some peroxide in his medicine cabinet. There wasn't time to feel intrusive. If he was going to reach out for her like this, she was going to make herself at home and take care of him. She grabbed what she needed and took a quick glance at herself in his mirror. She was a mess but she didn't care.

"Are you okay?" She asked, walking back over to him slowly. When his brow knit together she wrapped her arm around his back and encouraged him to make his way to the kitchen table. Making sure he'd stay sitting, she pulled a chair up close to him and began working on his cuts without questions. He winced for a second but by the time she looked up at his eyes he was stone cold again, gone. Her heart sank. As depressing and tragic as it was, she wouldn't dream of being anywhere but with him in that moment. She was too exhausted to analyze what that meant.

After she'd bandaged him up and closed up the bottle of peroxide, she waited for him to say something…anything…just to let her know he was still in there.

"I'm not going anywhere," she assured him carefully, meeting his eyes. "I don't care if we sit here and stare at each other for three hours. It's 1 a.m. I don't have to be at work for another 7 hours," she tried to lighten the mood but it was no use. "Talk to me," she said, folding her hands in her lap so she didn't reach out for his hand again. He clearly wasn't ready for physical contact again, as he'd been so quick to pull away the first time.

"I'm afraid to talk," he said after a few minutes of nothing. "I thought I was ready, but I'm not."

"Okay," she nodded, somewhat disappointed. Patience was a virtue she wished she had when it came to him. Everything inside of her wanted to lunge across the space between them and wrap him in her arms. She imagined it would feel wonderful, if it happened again. It was so hard to see him and feel him when he was so emotionally far away. She'd mourned him for years and even though he was right in front of her, she was still grieving for him now. "We don't have to talk about the war. Why don't we just talk about something else. Anything else,"

"There is nothing else," he said flatly and she felt a kick to the gut. She smelled the liquor on his breath and closed her eyes. He didn't look drunk but she found it hard to believe a sober Damon would destroy the place. There was more to this than too much alcohol. He'd always been good at holding his liquor…a cocky champion of sorts.

"Yes there is," she encouraged, devastated at his outlook. "There needs to be something else, okay?" She fought the urge to look at the mess behind her. Something had triggered him tonight, and there was a good chance he wasn't going to tell her what that was. She needed to find him, get him talking about something easy, just to bring him back to the present. He looked miles and miles away.

When he told her he hadn't talked to anyone she hadn't thought it meant he'd completely closed himself off from the world for the two and a half years he'd been back. Surely Alaric had been there for him, trying to ease him. She remembered him telling her he'd been worse before than he was now. Seeing the rough shape he was before her, she figured he'd left Chicago because he hadn't healed at all. Two years of this, or worse, was unimaginable.

"Tell me that it's okay for me to sit here with you," she asked him, softly, regretting the forcefulness she'd used on him before. "If you really, really don't want me here with you, I'll go,"

"Stay," he breathed and it broke her heart. It was strange how different he was being this time around. Before he'd been quiet but honestly looked like he wanted help. He'd asked her to listen to him and his story, but now he was closed up tightly, looking like he couldn't say a word.

She nodded. "How about I just sit here with you for a while? I can talk and you can listen," she suggested. Suddenly she felt proud. She'd stepped up, fought off fear to be there for him. And sure, she'd taken her medication before she found him, but it didn't matter. Seeing him like this could've sent her right back down into her zone again. Thankfully she was too afraid for him to think about her own problems.

"I have a niece," she smiled, thinking of the three-year-old little girl running around her mother's house. "She's beautiful and full of life. Her name is Izzy and she's small but feisty. She reminds me of me when I was little."

She watched Damon's face relax a bit and felt a rush of relief. This was something familiar. He'd met Jeremy. He could place a face and a situation and somehow, it almost made him feel connected to something for the first time in a long time. His roughest days in Iraq were spent remembering what he was fighting for. Elena. Her family…a family he'd met one time meant more to him than his own. In his best dreams, he'd pictured being a real part of the Gilbert family forever.

He'd joined the military at 18 because he believed he had no one. He'd wanted to feel a part of something, a brotherhood, and he'd heard from others that the connection between soldiers was strong. He'd gone in not caring if he lived, but when he'd been staring death in the eye, all he could do was run. He'd always said he didn't care if he was deployed to Iraq; he just hadn't expected to fall in love and want a future before that day came.

So why couldn't he be happy he was home? Why wasn't he running into her arms, kissing the ground she walked on because he was home, alive, and able to live his dreams? He was numb. He believed he still loved her, he just didn't know how.

Some days were better than others. This day just wasn't one of them. And if she wanted to know him again, he didn't want her to have to deal with this part of him. He'd wanted to be better, healed before he found her. It had taken two years for him to realize he couldn't heal without her.

"Jeremy is a great Dad," she smiled. "He plays dolls with her and everything. You should see it, it's so cute," she'd always been proud of her baby brother. When she'd gotten out of the military she'd embraced her family. She'd apologized for being cold toward them for years. Having the man she loved halfway across the world made her realize she was lucky to have a family to support her. "He met his wife at graduate school. It is so good to see him happy," she said, and she realized she was reminding herself, not just telling Damon.

"They live just a few miles away from me, and Mom's still in the house we moved to after the fire," she went on, not realizing the memories she'd trigger by mentioning the old brick house. He'd been there before. They'd been there…together. "Life would be calm if I let it. But you know me. I challenge everything I come across."

"Yeah," he said simply. Somehow that single word gave her hope. She swore he'd said it with a smile, if only a tiny one.

"I keep busy with work. I have my own practice now." She rarely let herself feel proud of her accomplishments, but telling Damon about her life made her feel different. When she spoke the words out loud, life didn't seem as bad as it had felt in her head. She'd been hazy for years, but she'd worked hard to get her life back after he'd turned her down. She did have a life without him; it just hadn't ever felt that way.

"You have a practice with Matt," he finally said, his face unchanged. She frowned, unsure how he knew, but he continued. "I had to find a therapist here," he looked down at his foot. "I've only had that…foot…for a little while. I got it a few weeks before I came back. I'm not used to it. I was used to my chair,"

She waited, unsure where he was going with his admission.

"I wanted it before I came. I…didn't want you to see me like that," His honesty was breathtaking, but she'd never wanted him to hide who he was. "Anyway…I looked up some physical therapists in the area and I saw your clinic. I saw your picture," he stopped. _And that you were still a Gilbert_, he thought but did not say. "And I knew better than to go there. I couldn't go to you and I really couldn't go to Matt," he said seriously. He didn't need to elaborate; she knew why.

"So I found someone else…and they said I'd need to work on it for a while before it became comfortable…I thought if I showed you the other day that it would make me comfortable with it…but I still hate it. I hate what it means." The chair reminded him of his injury, what he'd been through. But a foot…being able to walk again…it didn't feel fair and he was plagued with guilt that he wasn't ready to explain to her.

"I think it means you're trying to move on," her voice was soft and cautious.

"What if I can't?" He asked seriously. "What if I can't ever talk about it? I thought I could. I was more ready than I thought I'd ever be. And then I saw you and lost it. And then tonight…"

She didn't have an answer. She wasn't a counselor, just a listener…just a woman sitting in front of the man she'd loved, trying to put him back together.

"Tonight," she repeated calmly.

"I see things," he said after a minute and her heart escalated. "Horrible things that aren't real and never have been…" She felt the tears stinging the back of her eyes but she held on, afraid to show vulnerability. He was talking. It wasn't about what _had_ happened, but what _was_ happening. The wounded warrior Damon was reaching out, not the soldier. And she welcomed the ache that came with being his listening post; she'd do anything to hurt instead of him.

But she was a mess and in trouble because the mention of Matt's name hadn't planted the tiniest feeling of guilt in her heart. It had floated from his lips as if Matt was nothing more than someone they both knew, and she'd pressed on, dying to hear the story of the man before her.

"You saw something tonight," she said, knowingly, not sure if she should just her mouth and let him talk or help him through it. "That's why this….that's why you called me,"

"Yes," he admitted. "I'm not supposed to drink," he rubbed his forehead. "I'm…I was in a program in Chicago. I'm depressed enough as it is. Alaric would kill me if he saw me right now." Elena let out a sigh of relief at the mention of his friend. She was happy someone had been trying to help him back then, even if it hadn't stuck.

"But I still want to drink," he looked away from her. "And that's bad. But it's the only thing that clears my head. It sounds stupid, but…when I drink I don't see those things. I forget that I'm this way. I feel strong, good…"

Elena's stomach dropped. He was a recovering alcoholic who'd fallen off the wagon and destroyed his house in the process. She remembered the man he'd once been…the loud, obnoxious young guy who'd stolen her heart. She guessed he'd always liked his alcohol…she'd just never realized it was a problem until now. But things change and people change. She wasn't going to think less of him for failing this once. He needed to know that.

"So now I'm back to this again," he held up his wounded hand. "It's like nothing's changed. I should've stayed away. I couldn't disappoint you while I was in Chicago. I did a fine job of doing it once. I wasn't supposed to be able to do this over and over again. We were done,"

Her face was hot and her stomach twisted. The smallest mention of what was between them flooded her with sadness. She'd been naïve to bound through the door of that hardware shop thinking he'd run to her with open arms. She'd been a fool to think he'd come out of it fine, that she was the only medicine he needed. Sitting in front of him now told her there were issues buried deep inside of him that a kiss and a hug wouldn't fix. Come to think of it, she'd never felt more incapable in her life.

"But here I am. Your alcoholic ex-boyfriend, home from war with one foot and imaginary friends," he smiled bitterly.

"Don't," she shook her head and let her eyes fill with the tears that had been threatening to fall for half an hour. "You're home and I am more thankful for that than you probably know," she stopped. "So let me do this, okay? Let me be your friend, Damon. Please. I miss you," she said, the words catching in throat when she realized she'd said them out loud.

"You miss what I used to be," he said. "The man who was going to come home and marry you,"

She felt her body start to shake with his words. She was sure he wasn't aiming for cruelty but it was torture for him to throw it out there without emotion…as if their plans had been some ridiculous, fleeting thought.

Of course she missed that man. She'd never told a soul he'd proposed to her because she'd never given him an answer. Hell, she'd never even told him she loved him. He'd thrown himself out there and she'd let him go off to war doubting her feelings. She'd never forgive herself for that mistake. He'd been fighting for a dream he wasn't sure was going to come true and she hadn't helped. A simple 'yes' would've given him so much more hope.

Instead she'd screamed the word in her bed alone at night for years, wishing he could hear her answer. And when she'd been ready to tell him, he hadn't wanted to see her. That pretty much told her he wasn't interested in marriage…or anything with her, ever again.

"Damon, stop." She held up her hand, her eyes blurring the image of him before her. He'd gone from emotional recluse to this in the blink of an eye. "If you think I'm here to pressure you about us…I'm not, okay? I don't think we should talk about us just yet. I think we should keep this simple, ease our way into this…"

"Because I can't marry you, Elena," he said flatly.

"I asked you to stop," she cried, shaking her head. "I didn't say anything about marriage or us at all. I said I wanted to be your friend. I'm trying _really_ hard here, please. My being here for you has nothing to do with that night. Don't worry about any of that, okay?"

But in a way, it did. She knew the proposal was null and void. She hadn't gone over there thinking he'd had some change of heart and wanted to try a relationship with her again. Hell, she had a boyfriend who didn't have a clue she was there right now. She should feel terrible for lying to him and running off to Damon. But she didn't, and that was a problem.

Had he pushed her away in Chicago because he was afraid to tell her he'd changed his mind about their future? Had he changed his mind because he didn't want her anymore or because something happened to him and he was too far gone to even think of a happily ever after, she wondered.

"I'm sorry," he said, reaching to a shelf behind him and grabbing his prosthetic foot. She watched him put it on carefully. "I don't know how to be around you anymore. I look at you and I can remember what it was like to be happy…but I can't feel it really, and I hate myself for that,"

"Don't," she pled, reaching for his hand. This time he let her take it. It was warm and soft, just like he remembered. "You'll be okay. You'll be happy again. Don't discredit yourself,"

"I can feel hurt and fear," he swallowed, feeling her squeeze his hand. "And I have felt…other things," he thought back to feeling sad and incapable of helping her when she'd had her panic attack a few nights back. "But it fades in and out and I can never believe it. It never stays."

"Do you see the war when you hallucinate?" She asked softly. "Don't answer me if you don't to or can't…"

"Sometimes," he pushed a hand through his hair. "And other things…like I said, things that aren't real or that never happened. Tonight it wasn't real. It wasn't my foot…"

Elena looked at the clock on the wall. It read 2 a.m. and her heart pounded. She would have a lot of explaining to do and be awfully tired for work tomorrow, but she couldn't bring herself to leave him. She shot a look at the coffee pot and smiled back at him, sensing he needed a change of subject.

"Coffee sounds really good right now, don't you think?" She remembered the way he liked his, strong, black and extra hot.

"Sure," he said reluctantly, moving to stand.

"I'll do it," she walked to the other side of the kitchen and raised herself up on tiptoes to look in the cabinets for filters and a can of coffee. He watched her move, noticing a small tug of something inside. Comfort, he thought, though he couldn't be sure. He hadn't felt safe in years.

"Coffee gets me through the day," she said, pouring the water in the tank and pressing the power button to get it brewing. They were stuck somewhere awkward, between serious conversation and nonsense. It was all they could do. Every time one of them opened their mouth to speak the other had no idea what was coming. "I'm thinking about scaling back some hours at the clinic. I've been running myself sick lately…"

"I saw you, Lena," he blurted out when she least expected it. She turned, her face falling into a frown. The seriousness in his voice made in unnecessary for him to clarify what he'd meant. He was obviously talking about the image that had sent him into destructive drinking that night. "Tonight…I saw you…and they were hurting you…"

He couldn't believe he'd said it. He was the one hurting her now; no imaginary enemies could hurt her worse than his instability.

"What?" She managed, but it was barely audible. "No…" She didn't want to be the one to send him into fits like the one she'd discovered tonight. She didn't want to be the reason he drank. She only wanted to help him but it seemed she was doing just the opposite. He'd been sober in Chicago, it seemed. Now he was with her and not two weeks later he'd downed a bottle and broken a window.

"I used to have nightmares all the time, when I was over there. I've seen this one before, but never while awake. I don't want to believe I'm crazy, Elena…" he said seriously, standing up. "But god knows I am,"

In a flash she set the mugs she was holding on the counter and ran to him. She didn't care if he tried to push her away or barked at her for overstepping her bounds. She wrapped her arms around his back and let her hand press into the back of her neck, pushing his forehead down on her shoulder. She expected nothing in return, but found her heart slamming in her chest when his hands settled loosely on the small of her back. She wanted him to pull her closer but he didn't.

"You're not crazy," her fingers slipped into the velvety black hair at the back of his head. She'd wanted to do it since the moment she'd seen him, never feeling anything more than a short buzz cut. She kept herself from pressing her nails into his scalp, fearing it may trigger memories they'd agreed to not discuss. "You're okay. I'm okay,"

Yes, she still loved this broken man, and she was going to have to tell Matt he was back. Regardless of what was happening between her and Damon, she couldn't go on the way she had been. She'd been forcing herself to try and love someone else and it hadn't worked. Now she was lying to Matt and lying to Damon and lying to herself. Even if she and Damon stayed just friends, Matt deserved to know she just couldn't be what he wanted them to be.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," his hands fell from her back and he stepped backward, slowly. "It's not okay that I see things, so don't say it is. I'm stubborn, not stupid."

She sniffled, trying to clear her head and get back in the present. "Are you…are you taking medicine…"

"No," he shook his head. "Hell no,"

"There's nothing wrong with it," she said seriously. "Think about it, okay?" His silence told her he wasn't ready to agree to anything. "I can't stand to see you like this,"

"Exactly. That's why I told you not to come in. And I'm not taking that shit. I'm numb enough as it is. I'd rather be miserable than feel nothing at all,"

"Well when you call me in the middle of the night, saying stuff that makes me think…"

"I called you because I needed to make sure it was a hallucination, okay? That shit was real to me. You were right there," He said seriously, pointing to the broken window. "Only we weren't in my house, if you catch my drift…and I couldn't save you…there was so much blood…"

God this was almost unbearable. She swallowed down the lump forming in her throat.

"I'm a fucking coward," he said seriously. "That's what it comes down to. Everything I saw, everything I did over there was for nothing. I come home and I'm reminded of that over and over again. Do you know what that feels like? To feel like a failure in everything you do? I can't even see straight without alcohol, Elena…."

"You can't think like that," she shook her head. "I need to know I'm going to hear you breathing every day….do you understand what I'm saying?" She looked him dead in the eye. "Do you understand what I mean, Damon?" She waited again. "Answer me."

"I'm not going to overdose or jump out a window or something. Jesus, Elena. I don't want to die…" His eyes went cold. "I just want to remember how to live."

"Good," she said, relieved. "Good…." There was nothing more to say on that topic and she couldn't bring herself to let it linger any longer. "Just promise me you'll tell me if that changes,"

"Lena," he said seriously. "I said I'm not _there_," he repeated. "Leave it alone, okay?" _Please._

"Yeah," she answered quickly, believing him. She walked back to the counter and picked up the mugs of still warm coffee before resuming her spot at the table with him. Emotionally wrecked, she stared into the blackness of the drink and reminded herself how late it was. She'd have to go home soon and grab a shower before work. She just couldn't stand the thought of leaving him.

She pulled out her phone and saw she'd missed a few text messages from Matt. She bit her lip and set it on the table. Her conscious wasn't doing a very good job of reminding her she had other obligations lately. Every part of her wanted to be with Damon and she could hardly think of anything and anyone else since he'd come back to New York. It was a sickness she welcomed, craved even.

"He's worried about you," Damon said softly. "And he should be,"

"He saw me leave. He trusts me," she said, feeling sick for the first time in hours. Yep, there it was. The guilt _was_ still there, but not just because she'd been hiding him from Matt. She couldn't look Damon in the eye and say she'd been sleeping next to Matt when he'd called her at midnight.

"He shouldn't," Damon tried, not meaning it to sound like an insult. "If you'd have left me, back when were together, and run out the door in the middle of the night I'd have driven my ass around town and hauled you back." He stopped, shocked by how much it sounded like something he would've said years ago. Every now and then, his ghost reappeared.

"Because you don't trust me?" she asked. Her eyebrows were arched and defensive.

"No, because there was nowhere else in hell you should've been than with me at that hour," he said seriously. "And if you're with him now…well, you shouldn't be here with me." He waited a moment. "You haven't told him yet, have you?"

"I'm going to. It hasn't been that long…" her leg bounced nervously under the table and he stilled her with a frustrated stare. "It's not as easy as you think."

"It's been two weeks. Do you love the guy? What difference does it make that your ex is home? If the guy ever sees me he'll understand just fine. I'm no threat," Damon said and she felt her blood run cold. How dare he go there! She'd never even told _him_ she loved him. Even if she did love Matt she wouldn't flat out say it to Damon. Despite what he wanted to believe, he still had feelings that were fully capable of being hurt.

He didn't show it now, though. The vulnerable guy who'd been sitting in front of her just a few hours before had left. Now she was faced with someone calm and cool, practically a stranger. She hadn't wanted him to ask for details on her relationship. Her men needed to remain separate from each other. She didn't need to make things worse by admitting just what she'd gone through when she'd left Chicago.

She didn't say yes and she didn't say no. She couldn't lie…not to Damon. "I need to go," she drained the last of her coffee and walked their empty mugs to the sink. "Do you need me to take anything else with me?" She noticed another bottle of whiskey sitting above his fridge unopened. He hadn't been planning on falling off the sober wagon; he'd fully intended to jump off it at was at full speed. If he truly wanted to stay dry, she wanted to help him.

He pressed his hands onto his face before running his fingers back through his hair. "Yeah, take it," he said reluctantly. "Thank you," he offered.

"I can stay and help clean up," she suggested. "Just let me call him and tell him I'm on my way,"

"No," he waved his hand. "I made the mess. I can pick it up. Eventually," he swallowed. "Go ahead home." He made his way to the door and she couldn't help but notice how uncomfortable he looked on his foot.

"Would you let me help with your foot? I'd like to help you get a different prosthetic…I don't think they did a very good fitting. Between a better one and a little work on it, maybe it'll start to fell okay."

"You can't be my therapist," he shook his head.

"I know," she smiled sadly. "But I can be your friend, can't I? There's nothing wrong with us being friends, Damon,"

"We'll see," his said quickly. "Have a safe drive home and get some rest. I don't want the first time I see that guy of yours again to be at the hospital because you fell asleep at the wheel. I mean it,"

She nodded with a small smile, happy to hear some vigor in his voice for once. She wished she could wrap her arms around him again. One real hug in four long years was hardly enough, no matter the circumstances. "Good night," she said. He watched her walk down the hall and turn to go down the stairs before he shut the door.

* * *

Yeah, he was in trouble. Not only had he made a fool of himself by calling her in a frenzy to make sure she hadn't been murdered in front of his eyes like he thought, she'd also found out about it. He'd called to check in, to ease his mind. He'd never meant to drink but when he couldn't get ahold of her he'd shut his phone off and opened the bottle, ashamed of himself.

His mind and body had separated when he'd destroyed his window, much as it had in the past. If only he could feel normal pain. He'd carried her with him since he'd left for Iraq. Sometimes she'd appeared in a dream, others as a hallucination in the middle of the desert. Most days she was tucked in his pocket in the form of a picture, creased and scratched with sand and dirt.

He walked to his bedroom and took a good look at himself in the mirror. His eyes were sunken in and hollow. He'd lost weight, but that was no surprise. His hard muscles were turning soft. He'd have to work out for months to feel normal again. But he hadn't wanted that strong body back. His weak form reminded him of what he really was inside of his head. Others saw him as that hero, the guy who'd avoided death. It hadn't been luck, it had been fear. The picture of him hanging on his wall from years ago with his high and tight hair and crisp uniform bore into his soul, mocking him for being a failure.

Men had died before his eyes. His men…his brothers...and he should've died with them. But that picture had burned a hole in his pocket and he'd been a coward, a man in love instead of a warrior. The thought of never seeing Elena again had changed the course of his life. He'd have died gladly if it hadn't been for her; and some days, when he had episodes like this, he feared the same was true now. He hadn't had the heart to tell her she was the only reason he wanted to live.

But no…he didn't _really_ want to die. If he'd wanted to die he would've gone with the rest of them. Love had made him a weak man, and the woman he'd survived to come home to deserved better than he could ever give. He hadn't lied. He wanted so badly to feel again…to open himself up to her and free the demons that haunted him. But she had demons of her own and the two of them together couldn't be good. She was beautiful and strong as ever, but he couldn't let her destroy her life for him when he couldn't promise her a thing. And he chose to show her he still cared in the worst ways possible…saying stupid things about her relationship with Matt, calling her like a baby in the middle of the night…

Pulling out his phone, he decided to give this text message thing a shot. He found her number in his contact list and pulled up the text field, feeling like a child. He wasn't happy with the send-off he'd given her.

**I'm ashamed. **His finger hovered over the SEND key for a moment before he deleted it. **I'm sorry about tonight. I'm embarrassed you saw that. **There. That sounded less depressing.

He plopped down on his bed and pulled the picture of Elena out of his front pocket. He rubbed his thumb over it, as he had a thousand times, and cast his doubts upon her. He wasn't religious. He didn't pray as many of the others had in his unit. He'd talked to Elena at night, as if she was some guardian angel that would save him. And she had, because despite the way it felt sometimes, he _did_ come home.

The ends of the photo were dirty and torn but he could still make out her smile. He remembered the day he'd taken that photo. It had been against her will but she'd smiled just the same, proving she was bullheaded. His heart thawed a little when he looked at it. He didn't think he could ever be that man again, but he wished so badly he could be someone worthy of her love someday. More than anything, he wished he knew how to love.

With a sigh he walked back to his dresser and pulled open his top drawer, revealing hundreds of letters he'd started to write but never finished and never sent her. He'd saved every one she'd written him, but could never find the words to describe the way he felt. Lonely, miserable and sad weren't exactly the thoughts you wanted to send home to your girl. So he'd kept them for himself instead and she'd probably thought he didn't care about her letters.

He jumped when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket, revealing a reply to the text he'd sent her just a few minutes before.

**I meant what I said. I miss you. **

He couldn't make his fingers work to respond right away. Instead he saved the message and set her picture up on his nightstand and crawled under the covers.

He didn't just need her to tell Matt he was back because it was the right thing to do. He didn't want to be a secret and the fact that she'd made him one led him to believe she was either ashamed of him or afraid of what it really meant. He clicked off his light and willed himself to sleep, but it wouldn't come. The alcohol was buzzing in his system, reminding of just how far off track he'd gotten on the path to recovery.

Pulling out his phone again, he managed one message.

**Then tell him**_**. **_

With that, he powered it off and tossed it in his nightstand, slamming his drawer closed. He turned over in his big bed and cooled his body on the bare sheets. He was sick and tired of being this way, but no matter what he tried he couldn't beat it. Maybe she was right. Maybe he needed medicine. He sure as hell needed AA again.

Thanksgiving was just around the corner and he'd be spending it alone again. He'd eaten a hot turkey meal exactly once in his life and it had been the night he and Elena had turned a major corner in their relationship. Being back in New York, with her so sweet and willing to care for him almost made him nostalgic. He could almost taste that cranberry sauce on the corner of her lips.

It had also been the day he'd become nothing more than a pile of sap when he'd realized he loved her. And there'd been no turning back from there; the hero inside of him had been beaten by the lover, and just 16 months later, he'd let his friends die so he could live to see her and feel that love again.

It was all for nothing, because he barely felt a thing.

That alone was enough to plague him with a lifetime of survivor's guilt. When he'd first come home he'd wished he'd died, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized if he were faced with the same situation today, he'd do it again. He was afraid, plain and simple. He was afraid to die because it meant he'd never see her again. But he was afraid of what being so close to her would do to both of them. He'd almost felt excited at the thought she'd find him in his time of need, but he couldn't let he see that. Getting her hopes up only to disappoint her would be worse. She had a good life without him…a good job, a good man and a good relationship with her family. That was all he wanted for her, even if it hadn't turned out to be him with the golden band on his finger.

Who was he to march in and destroy everything she'd built after he'd broken her heart?

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! I'll be working hard to get the next update up in a timely manner.


	4. Dark Paradise

**A/N:I've been looking forward to having some time off so I could finally finish this chapter and update! I'm getting excited to get into the past stuff now, and we're going to revisit some history in this chapter. We'll do some time flipping, starting and ending in present time with a bit of flashback stuff in the middle. Not as emotionally heavy as the last few. My heart needed a rest in that department. As always, thanks for reading. I really appreciate the time you take. I know the chapters are long. I just can't stop myself from seeking to give them depth. **

**I've chosen Lana Del Rey's "Dark Paradise" for this chapter. Haven't heard it? Beautiful song. **

* * *

**Through The Ghost**

**Chapter 3: Dark Paradise **

**Present Day, Friday night...**

Elena stabbed her fork into her salad bowl, spearing a piece of ranch drenched romaine. Friday night dinners at her mother's house had become a weekly tradition since she'd come been out of the military. And usually she found them relaxing and enjoyable; a chance to kick back the stresses of the week and remember what life was really about…family. But her heart was heavy thinking about what she'd been hugging a few nights ago when she'd walked into far worse than a busted out window and a sad man.

It physically hurt to think of Damon. It always had. The unwanted ache in her chest had started the minute he left that bar with Daphne in his arms, showing her for the first time she was capable of want and jealousy and emotions she hadn't ever wanted to feel. And even after things had shifted and their relationship had evolved, she'd felt the pain of knowing their happiness could only be temporary. They'd been dreamers because it was easier that way. And no amount of understanding could have prepared her for his departure.

But he'd come back to her now, even though he hadn't come out and said it. And Chicago would always hurt, but she was well aware there was more to the story he wasn't ready to talk about. Maybe one day it would make enough sense to forget. It was a battle between a brokenhearted, bitter, abandoned girlfriend and an ex-Army woman who understood the dangerous after-effects of a soldier come home. The latter of the two told her she had to forgive him…that he was dealing with far worse things than a messed up relationship and that it would be selfish to pull away from him because he'd hurt her feelings.

She had to fight herself from calling him every single day. He'd reach out to her, if needed. But she couldn't shake the feeling that he'd wait too long again. What could be worse than the lost look in his eyes she'd seen as he stood before her in that doorframe, covered in cuts and drowning in alcohol?

He seemed like a hollowed out version of the man she used to know but it felt like he still had his pride. Everyone always said the first step to healing is admitting you have a problem, and he had. He'd come to her after whatever hell he'd endured for two years, and more or less made it seem he'd stayed away to protect her from himself. But she'd have welcomed whatever monster he claimed he'd been. Nothing could hurt worse than him not trusting her to accept him for who he was.

"I'm all done eating," a little voice said, sending a warm wave through Elena. She met her tiny niece's eyes and let out a breath. "Can I watch a movie now, Daddy?"

Jeremy's eyes shot to Elena's barely-touched salad bowl and he frowned before turning to his daughter. "How about we wait for everyone to finish, Izzy," he suggested. "Your aunt's still eating,"

"It's okay," Elena shook her head. "I'm not feeling too well. I'm sorry," she looked between her mother and her brother…anywhere but at Matt. His hand slid on her thigh under the table and squeezed, sending pangs of guilt right to her gut. He'd been so gentle and patient with her lately, noticing she'd been acting differently. And she was cruel for letting him act that way without telling him the truth. Chances were he'd have no sympathy for a woman who'd practically been mentally cheating on him for the last two weeks.

She needed to tell him soon. It was only fair. And she was sensible and honest; this was something the colder side of her would've once laid out for him without another thought. But it wasn't just another guy. It was Damon, and anything and everything involving that man scared the living hell out of her. Sitting Matt down, looking him the eyes and saying "Damon is home" wouldn't be the hard part. It was the feelings that came along with it. _She_ didn't even know how she felt about it…him…how the hell could she explain it Matt? She'd stopped waiting for him to come home two years ago when he'd turned her away. That was supposed to be it. This conversation wasn't supposed to ever happen….

"Okay, well I was going to wait until later, but I'm just going to come out and say it now," Matt wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it back down on the table, turning toward Elena. Her stomach churned at the possibilities of what was about to come out of his mouth.

_Don't propose. Don't say I love you. Don't fall any deeper because I'm hours away from breaking your heart…and I won't do it in front of my family, _she thought.

"I've known this family for a long time," he began, and the lump in the back of her throat was getting bigger, harder. "For years we've been sitting down at this table to celebrate holidays and birthdays…even when you couldn't always be here with us," he squeezed her knee under the table again. "So I'm a little nervous to suggest breaking that tradition…but I suppose you'll find out soon enough."

"Maybe we should talk about this later," her cheeks filled with blood and she frowned, looking down at her salad again. Guilt. Horrible, horrible discomfort. And she wasn't just a bad girlfriend. Matt was right; he'd been a part of their family, so to speak, for years. She was a bad friend, too. He would never understand how badly she wanted to have Damon back in her life. Even as a friend.

He smiled and looked toward Miranda quickly. "Elena and I won't be around this Thanksgiving," he said nervously. "I thought…since it's really our first big holiday together…that we'd go on a little trip while the clinic is closed. Maine's really pretty this time of year…and it's not too far. There's this little bed and breakfast I read about and I think you'll love it."

"What?" She frowned. "You didn't even ask me." _What the hell am I going to do about Damon? I can't leave him here alone…_ "This is my family and you're right, we have traditions. It's just us, Matt. And I can't give that up,"

"You've missed plenty of holidays," he reminded her softly.

"Exactly. And I won't miss another," she scooted her chair backwards and stood up. She was overreacting and damn well knew it. If Damon wasn't back, she'd have welcomed the peace and quiet. If Damon wasn't back, she'd still be telling herself to fall in love with Matt. And this was her own fault, because she'd chosen to keep him a secret. No one could understand her reaction to being away for the holidays when he was here. No one could understand what Thanksgiving meant to her. To them.

"Elena, honey…" Miranda said softly. "It's really okay. You work hard. You deserve to relax. We'll be fine. We can do something when you come back."

Elena felt her phone buzz in her pocket and she glance down at it. When she met her brother's worried eyes, she knew the conversation wasn't over. But he gave her a reassuring nod that he supported her, no matter what.

"Excuse me," she shook her head and headed toward the back door.

"Baby," Matt stood up to follow, but Jeremy spoke up, reminding him how fragile she could be sometimes.

"Let her go, man," he frowned. "Trust me. You'll only make it worse."

She needed space. Matt, if anyone, should know that. She pushed him away enough there was no way he should believe she was head over heels in love with him. She'd never said the words in her life. To any man.

She walked outside into the crisp air. Pulling her phone out and leaning on the frozen railing of the balcony, she looked up at the black sky. Ugh, the darkness was so heavy. She just needed a minute to compose herself and remember who she was. She'd never felt more selfish in her life. When she turned, she was met with her brother's worried face staring at her through the glass door.

"What was that about?" He asked, lowering his eyebrows when she pushed the door opened and noticed they were in the kitchen alone. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine," she exhaled. "I shouldn't have acted that way in front of Izzy. I'm sorry. I'm just so high strung right now. Every little thing sets me off," she shook her head and walked toward the sink. "Let's clean up, okay?"

She opened a drawer and pulled out a dish rag and two towels and turned on the faucet, staring down a pile of sticky dishes. She lost herself in the hot soapy water, remembering the little run in they'd had earlier that day at the fresh market by her clinic.

* * *

"Granny Smiths make the best pies," She'd said softly. Elena's hand reached around him and into the fruit basket to pick one up. But when he turned, she was surprised at the frustrated look on his face. His fists were tightened at his sides, prepared. She had a feeling he was always ready for a fight.

"You can't just creep up on me like that," he warned, thankful he'd kept his calm "You have no idea what I might've done if you'd touched me without saying anything. I don't like surprises, Elena. I react, if you know what I mean,"

"I'm sorry," she looked down, angry that she hadn't thought it through. Of course he'd be sensitive to sounds and touches. Her father had been, too. "I was just surprised to see you and ran over without thinking. I'll try to remember,"

He swallowed and looked at her more softly. "You shouldn't have to. But for now…for awhile…"

She nodded. "It's okay. I'm not stalking you," she said seriously. "I come here every day for a snack or a quick breakfast. My clinic is next door and once my day starts, it's hard to get away for even a small break."

Of course he knew that. There were a ton of markets in New York City. He hadn't wandered to this one accidentally. He picked up an apple and stuck it in his hand basket before meeting her eyes again. "Don't think I'll be baking any pies soon," he said. "I'll stick to sandwiches. Easier."

"Healthier, anyway," she was just happy he was out in the daytime. His face was smooth and clean and she detected a bit of cinnamon on his breath. "You look good today," she smiled. She hadn't meant it to sound flirtatious and thankfully it didn't seem like he'd taken it that way.

"Today is an okay day," he paused, unsure if he should go on. "I haven't been up this early in years…at least not after I've slept. I kind of forgot what it was like. Things were routine for years, you know. And suddenly everything was different. Responsibility and all that…"

She smiled sadly, knowing nothing she could say would be right. _Yeah_ made it sound like she thought he was a failure. And the only other option she had was to pull him into her arms and promise him she'd take care of him until he was strong enough to do so himself…and then keep taking care of him even after that.

"Not to turn everything into doom and gloom," his lips fought to twitch into a small, healthy smirk that was so painfully familiar…and completely broke her heart. He scanned her with gentle, appreciative eyes. Her hair fell just over her shoulders in waves and he saw a healthy glow behind her reddened cheeks. The wind had always done a beautiful job of kissing her when he hadn't been able to.

"How about you?" He stopped, realizing he'd been so caught up in his own head that he'd barely checked on how she was. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," she sighed, making it hard to believe that was where it ended. "It's nice to see you like this," she settled for the safe route. "I wish I could stay and talk but I've got a patient in a few minutes." She used her thumb to point backward to indicate the direction she was headed. Her eyes caught on a big wooden crate of pumpkins and she bit her lip. What she was about to say held more context than the words made it seem. She was about to take a huge risk. "I'd like you to think about something,"

"Okay," he nodded, tossing a bunch of bananas into his basket and walking alongside her. To everyone else they probably looked like a couple, stepping in sync as if it was perfectly normal for them to be together in public….while her boyfriend was next door…

"Thanksgiving is in a few weeks. We still do the usual at Mom's…turkey, stuffing. As always, it's way too much food for just a few people. But you know my mother. She cooks as if she's feeling the entire unit," she was surprised that he smiled at the comment. "Anyway, now that you're back…I was thinking it might be nice if you came over, too."

"Elena…I don't think…"

"Please don't say no to me," she managed. "Not about this,"

"I was invited?" He sounded doubtful.

"You will be," she swallowed. "I mean you are. I'm inviting you right now. Don't you remember what Mom said? You're always welcome."

He stood in place behind her in line at the register. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea, Lena." His voice sounded rough again and she hoped it wasn't from screaming. "Do they even know I'm back?"

"I'm going to tell them just as soon as I tell Matt," she started. "Which, I plan on doing soon. Maybe even tonight…"

His eyes widened in hope for a minute before cooling. He wanted Matt to know just to get it over with. But the sooner he knew, the sooner she'd come to her senses and remember what he'd done to her. He'd abandoned her. He'd left her with nothing and now she was there, embracing the fact he was back as if nothing had ever gone sour between them.

She'd always been strong, but she'd been caring for him in her own ways since day one when she told him to sit himself back down on the table and close his mouth. And gradually she'd become important to him. So important, that when he was actually starting to get under her skin, he'd aborted the mission and pulled out before he get too carried away with emotions.

The same could be said of him now. If he got too close he was doomed to hurt her. If not with paranoia and night terrors then with the reminder that he could never again be the man she'd wanted. It was a miracle she'd ever cared about that man at all.

"Yeah well, things have changed. I'm sure I'm not their favorite person anymore," He reminded her. "For obvious reasons…"

"My mom's no stranger to this, Damon," she clarified. "And what they think doesn't matter anyway. I'm an adult,"

"And your boyfriend?" He arched an eyebrow. "He'll be at Thanksgiving too?"

"Of course," she frowned, not having thought of that tidbit. "Well, that was the original plan…" she bit her lip. She wasn't sure what was going to happen when she finally told Matt Damon was back in town. If they cooled off, broke up even, he wouldn't be out of her life. "I want you there."

"Why," he asked.

"Because it's where you belong," she answered quickly. "No one should be alone on Thanksgiving. If it's not too hard for you, I'd like for you to join us. At least think about it…"

He wasn't so sure he could sit across the table from her knowing Matt would be groping her leg just a few feet away from him.

"I can't make any promises," he said. "But I'll think about it…"

"Thank you," she smiled content with his response. It was better than _no_. He'd never made her wait for an answer, had he? Even in Chicago he'd sent Alaric to do his dirty work.

_Tell her I said no…_

He pulled out his wallet to grab some cash for his groceries and Elena's eyes caught on her worn out photograph. She stopped breathing for a moment, overcome with feelings and questions that weren't even fair of her to ask. He carried her with him wherever he went. She doubted he'd been on any beaches lately. Those sand scrapes weren't fresh.

And the crazy smile on her younger face broke her heart. That particular day was the first time she remembered feeling something other than that annoying attraction toward him. It was the first time he'd let her in. It had been quick and brutal, but she'd never forget the day she shut off her defenses and let herself feel something for just a few minutes. Because looking back at it now, that rough-edged girl in the picture didn't know what she had coming when it came to Damon Salvatore. Oh the things she'd learn to feel from just a few short months at his side….

* * *

She dropped the red plate she'd been washing, the noise startled back into the present. With a sigh she picked up and resumed the scrubbing.

"Okay, sis," Jeremy breathed next to her, shutting off the faucet and taking the rag from her hands. "What's going on with you? You barely said a word at dinner. And then the Matt thing…"

He'd watched her washing the same plate for five minutes, noticing the changes in her expression. Happy, sad, worry, tears? Something was definitely off. She didn't cry in public.

She set the square plate she'd just finished washing on a stack of four others and lifted them into the open cabinet next to her. "I'm sorry, Jere," she breathed. "Sometimes I check out without realizing it."

He measured her expression for a moment then stepped away from the counter to check that no one else had left the living room. She followed his stare, seeing Matt settled comfortably in what used to be her father's favorite chair. It seemed no matter what she did she hurt him, but for whatever reason, he stayed. The scene felt like a message, like someone was telling her he belonged in that family, looking over her as her father once had. Grayson would've loved Matt if he'd had the chance to meet him. He also would've loved Damon.

"Are you and Matt okay?" Jeremy asked carefully. There was a time he would've have dared to ask her anything about her love life. Back when she'd come home from her trip to Chicago two years ago, for instance. He'd done his brotherly duty and tried to protect her from more heartache. He'd done his best to convince her to wait for Damon to come home to her, but the tears welling up in her desperate eyes told him not to push. And he knew better than to take the 'I told you so' route when she'd moped through the door with runny mascara and red-rimmed eyes.

But that was Damon, and his older sister was a mess when it came to that man. He'd learned the hard way to just keep his mouth shut and not ask questions. If he said he was a jerk she got upset and if he told her to give the guy a break or some time, she said he was siding with him. There was no right answer when it came to Damon; he was on a pedestal and she was the only one allowed to bring him up. So it was a good thing they weren't talking about Damon then, wasn't it?

"Things are the same with us," she said flatly. "He's the same guy he's always been."

Matt Donovan was more than just Elena's new man and medical partner. Jeremy had known the guy for years and felt he had a right to ask about them. He'd often stopped over to spend time with the family while she'd been away in the Army and Jeremy had always seen right through it. The guy was waiting in the wings for Elena to come back and have some revelation about what they really were to each other. Each time she'd come home on leave he'd been there, starry-eyed. And he'd honestly believed they were end-game until she'd walked through the door of her family's home the day before Thanksgiving holding another man's hand.

Yeah, Jeremy had seen something die in Matt's eyes that day; the twinkle had been replaced with defeat and jealousy. But it had finally worked out for them, it seemed, even if he'd always consider himself her second choice. The mere mention of Damon's name sent that darkness right back into Matt's eyes. Just how long would it be before Damon fell off his pedestal? Even rejection hadn't done the job. Not really. She had no interest in having that tattoo removed.

"Matt said you've been running yourself ragged. You need to take care of yourself. Maybe he's right about the trip. I'm not the only one that's noticed you're acting a little different," he tipped his head toward the kitchen island and pulled out a stool for Elena to sit on. "Too old for root beer floats?" He asked, walking to the freezer and pulling out the vanilla ice cream.

"Never," she said with a smile, relieved to have a little more alone time with him before heading back into the living room. She wasn't a liar and Jeremy wasn't stupid. If he'd really thought she was just tired from work, he'd drop it. But this? Their childhood tradition was saved for moments like these.

"And how about you, Jere? You're the one with the actual life," she took a spoonful of ice cream and for just a moment, felt at home. "How are things with your job?"

"Oh, you know, fine," he poured the root beer over his ice cream and twisted on the cap. "I turned down the transfer, so things are going to be a little tight for a while…but I just didn't see any other option. New York is my home. It's our home," he glanced into the living room and smiled. "And April would've been with it. She said now is the perfect time to move if we're going to…before Izzy is in school…but I just couldn't,"

"She's big," Elena said, letting her eyes float over her three-year-old niece. "You've done well for your family. Dad would be proud of you,"

"And of you," he added quickly. "And not just for the work you're doing for those veterans and at the clinic."

If only he knew her intentions weren't just about helping strangers. Every time she let her mind go without restraint it landed on one thing; she'd always imagined screaming from the rooftops that he'd come home to her. Now his return was a painful secret that he didn't want her to keep.

She was ready to burst. A hammering heart told her she better just come out with it to somebody before it ate her alive and she started believing she'd imagined the entire thing. Hell, she'd reached for him so many times in her dreams over the years that hugging him the other day hardly seemed real.

She stared at the ice cream for a moment, willing herself not to freak out. Was she really going to tell Jeremy before Matt? Yes, because no matter what, Jeremy would understand. Maybe not at first, but eventually.

"I need to tell someone," If she looked into her brother's eyes she'd be a goner, she knew. She couldn't cry. Not now. Not with her entire family in the other room practically oozing over her relationship with Matt. She swallowed and reminded herself why she needed to say it out loud. The sooner it came out of her lips the sooner it could be real. No matter what was going to happen with Damon, it wasn't just going to go away. Whether he called her again or not, he was home it changed everything. And her conscious told her she was filthy for keeping him a secret…not only because he deserved more than that, but because of the way her heart felt.

"Damon's home," she whispered, afraid of his reaction. She braced herself for the judgment the warning words she could swear were coming next. But after a moment of nothing more than silence she met her brother's sorrowful eyes. He looked as if he could hear the rest of the sentence she'd been unable to finish.

"You've seen him?" He whispered, looking back into the living room. She pressed her lips together in a heartbroken smile of honesty. He raised his hands behind his head and leaned back with a mouthful of air, as if he was trying to censor himself. In the end, all he could manage was a sigh.

"I know what you're going to say," she bit her lip. "But what am I supposed to do, Jere? He found me…he needs someone. He needs help," She'd turned defensive without realizing, as she'd always done when she talked about him. "He's bad," she said, barely above a whisper. "It's bad."

"You don't have to save everyone," he reminded her. "That's not your job. There are other people he can talk to….people whose heart he hasn't broken,"

"No," she shook her head.

"He isn't your responsibility," he stopped short of saying _anymore_.

"Yes, he is. He's my…" she didn't have the energy to figure out what the hell they were anymore. They'd never broken up but she'd pretty much assumed it was over when he wouldn't even look in her the eye in Chicago. She pressed on, "I need you to understand. Please, Jeremy," she whispered, seeing his expression change from protective brother to something else. "Please."

He sighed, not liking this one bit. Where Damon was concerned there was always more to the story. And he'd liked and respected the guy when they'd met. But back the Damon had been the type of guy to give Jeremy a warning. He'd once asked him to make sure Elena was treated right.

"So this is why you've been distracted," he pushed his float to the side. "Hell, Elena,"

"It's a _good_ thing," she frowned when he sighed. "Oh come on. Do you really think I'm going to let him roam around New York City all depressed and lonely and pretend like I never cared about him because he made a mistake years ago?"

"I'm just saying it might be the better option," he warned honestly.

A bitter smile crossed her face and she pushed out her stool, regretting having told him.

"I like Damon," he stopped her. "But I can't stand what he did to you. There's no excuse,"

"Have you forgotten what Dad was like when he came home?" She frowned. "We were little, but didn't you hear Mom crying at night? Did you really believe he had a headache all those times he stayed in bed all day, missed our school events?" She met his troubled eyes and his face lightened. "Don't you get it? Damon's the same, maybe worse. They've destroyed him,"

She'd once been so positive about the military. When she'd enlisted, he'd cried. He'd been 16 and the only thing he knew about the Army was that it hurt his father. He'd never been as brave or dedicated to something as Elena was. But slowly her priorities had started to shift. And when she didn't re-enlist when her time was up he knew why. She was waiting for Damon to come home from war so they could start a real life. And as he sat with her now with brightness in her eyes he hadn't seen in years, he realized she was still waiting.

"Yeah, I get it," he said back with a swallow. "But it's you I'm worried about. What's this doing to you and Matt? I thought I sensed a little tension between you two at dinner,"

She leaned against the rest of her high backed stool and crossed her arms. "I haven't told him. I don't know how. I don't know what to say…but I know I need to…"

Jeremy sat forward pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. She was digging herself a hole that she wasn't going to be able to get out of and for all he knew, she wanted it that way. The more he thought about it, she'd always seemed to just be going through the natural motions with Matt. They progressed through time, not out of passion. Her work kept her busy but she'd never honestly seemed unhappy. In the two years since she'd come home from Chicago, he'd seen her smile plenty but he wasn't sure if he'd ever believed she was truly content. As long as he was alive, the possibility of a life with Damon was always just below the surface.

He pressed his lips together and furrowed his brow. "I can't tell you what to do. It's your life,"

"You just did," she sighed. "You think this is a mistake," she watched him slide off the stool and put their empty glasses into the sink. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Matt pull her niece onto his lap and point to pictures in a book.

"Can you look me in the eyes and tell me Damon being back won't change a thing?" He waited, and she did look up at him. "And that you're going to spend all this time with Damon, a man you've loved for years," he paused when she turned away. He lowered his voice again, "and then you're going to walk away at the end of the day and go home to Matt? Elena, come on. You and I both know that isn't going to work,"

"There's nothing going on with Damon," she said seriously. "We've just talked. I'm allowed to have friends."

"That's what you said the last time," he reminded her. "And I'm sure you remember how that worked out." Of course she did. They all did. "You and Damon Salvatore were _never_ just friends,"

She cleared her throat, blaming the slamming in her chest on awkwardness because it was easier than the other option. Swallowing through a dry mouth, she begged her body to get its act together. And when she saw Matt laughing in the living room with the rest of her family, guilt stormed her gut, telling her she was unfaithful. Because try as she might, she couldn't honestly tell herself she'd be content if she and Damon stayed friends. Jeremy was right; they were wired for more…

Or at least they had been.

The light in Damon's eyes since he came to New York was dim but not gone. And they'd barely talked, but he was trying hard to convince her that the man she'd once cared so deeply for at Fort Drum really _had _died in Iraq. But as long as he was breathing she would care…even after…

But she was anywhere but where she should be when it came to him. Serious or not, she was with someone else…someone who was good to her and had been for years. She owed him the truth and not just because he was her boyfriend and medical partner. She could've slapped herself for the way things had gone with him. She'd never been unhappy with him, just never jump through fiery hoops thrilled as she had been with Damon. And that was the problem. Nothing and no one would compare to Damon. Ever.

But she'd kept her mouth shut about that, too. She'd always been a bit reluctant to get too serious with him, but for all he knew, she was on a slow path to forever with him. It was never going to end that way, even if Damon hadn't come home, she reminded herself. If only she'd been a little more open about her feelings from the get-go…she'd just been so vulnerable and stupid when she came home from Chicago. Two years of Matt being there, every single day, had almost been enough to convince her he really had been Mr. Right all along.

She had a lot to think about. Damon's return hadn't been the sole reason for doubting her relationship with Matt, but it would sure as hell be hard to explain it when she'd gone through the motions as if nothing were wrong. Exhaustion had been her excuse for far too long.

"I know I need to tell him," she said with a raspy voice. "But just let me do it in my own way, please," she locked eyes with her brother and caught a nod, "I know this is wrong, but I need to get my head on straight,"

"And working 10 plus hours a day at the clinic and then volunteering for two hours every night isn't going to do it. It's simple. You either love Matt or you don't. You either love Damon or you don't. It can't be both,"

"It's _not_ that simple," she shook her head. "I'm not cheating on Matt,"

"So you wouldn't care if you found Damon out with some other woman tonight?" He crossed his arms, knowingly. The frown on her face told him everything he needed to know.

"No hypotheticals, okay? I will tell him soon…it's just, you know what this will do to him…."

"And your practice, and your future," he added, but shut up quickly when she tightened her lips and turned her head to the side. "Is it worth it?"

"Hey, I didn't think there were _that_ many dishes," Matt's voice made Elena jump. Jeremy let out a breath and turned on the sink to was their root beer float mugs, hoping the guy hadn't just heard the end of that question.

Matt's hands wrapped around Elena's waist and landed on the front of her stomach, pressing her back into his chest. He placed a kiss on her shoulder, but dropped his hands when she didn't respond to his touch. His head was pounding; something was wrong. Her She'd only slept at his house three nights in the last two weeks and even then she'd come in late. And he was stupid enough to try and pretend nothing had happened at the table just a little while ago. He was too good at brushing off problems...

"Is everything okay in here? Did I interrupt something?" He looked between Elena and Jeremy. When Jeremy caught his eyes, he shrugged and Elena let out a silent sigh of relief. Jeremy may be friends with Matt and he may push her buttons from time to time, but he was still her brother and he meant it when he said he had her best interest at heart.

"Nah, just dishes…oh, and root beer floats. I'd be happy to make you or anyone else out there one if you want,"

"Jere and I were just catching up," she said softly. "We don't get a lot of time to really talk now that we're grown up. But we're good now," she finished, nodding a 'thank you' in her brother's direction.

"I think we better head out," he said sadly, pulling her coat off the hook and slipping it over her shoulders. "If that's okay with you," She between Matt and Jeremy for a second and knew he was right. She needed to make some changes, and soon.

"Yeah," she nodded, bracing herself for the awkward car ride home. And even though she didn't want to and probably shouldn't end up in his bed, she had to that night. She needed to tell him and wasn't stupid enough to do it over the phone. He deserved more than that.

* * *

So after she'd hugged everyone goodbye and endured a mostly silent car ride back to his apartment, she willed herself to stay strong. He pulled her jacket off and hung it in the closet before she walked into his bedroom and pulled off her jeans. He frowned when he saw her slip into his bed.

It was only 8:30 and those definitely weren't bedroom eyes. She was in one of her quiet, distant moods. Sadly, he tugged off his t-shirt and climbed into bed next to her, keeping his hands at his sides and staring at the ceiling.

"Talk to me," he whispered, glancing over toward her. But he was only met with her back, as she'd turned the other direction. "I'm sorry to have sprung it on you like that in front of everyone. I honestly thought you'd be excited. I don't want to fight with you…"

_Then tell him_. The text was haunting her, eating her alive. And she was working herself into near panic just thinking about how badly this was going to go. If Damon was really just a friend it wouldn't hurt so badly to tell Matt. It wouldn't change a thing at all. That's how she knew the biggest lie she was telling to herself.

"I don't want to go to Maine for Thanksgiving," she started. "My family needs me and I need them. I'm thirty years old and this is still important to me. I'm sorry I reacted so harshly," _And Damon's home. And I already invited him_, she thought, but the words just wouldn't come.

"We don't have to go," he scooted closer to her and let his fingers trace down her bare shoulder, sending a cold shiver through her body. "Just tell me you're okay,"

He waited for a few moments, afraid to push much more. And when her breathing evened out before she'd given him an answer, he knew they were going to bed with something very big between them. He hated that she never seemed to give herself completely over to him. She was always holding back. Sighing, he rolled over and fell asleep, hoping for a better weekend.

But Elena's sleep wouldn't last. The few interactions she'd shared with Damon were messing with her mind. Some had been horribly depressing…terrifying even. But others, like that morning, reminded her of the tension that had always been so thick between them. Jeremy was right; they were never friends. And it had never been easy or perfect for them. He'd always been challenging and exhausting, but he'd been a wonderful surprise. He still was.

* * *

**2008**

Elena boots clicked as she paced the shiny hallway of Willowbrook Academy. The sound of children's laughter warmed her normally hard demeanor as she recalled the endless possibilities she'd dreamed of as a student there. Those halls had seen her through a lot of ups and downs in the nine years she'd spent there. She could only hope the children laughing in those classrooms wouldn't lose their hearts the way she had.

She could remember when she'd been a silly little girl, dreaming of boys and happily ever after's. Then her Daddy had been sent away to fight and all she wanted was her own, normal life back. And after she'd left those halls, she'd gone onto high school where she studied hard and kept but a few close friends. While everyone else was still dreaming of futures with Mr. Right, she was focused on making a difference. She was very different than the little girl with the trophy smiling back at her from a picture framed on the wall of Willowbrook's history.

"Cute kid," a smooth voice said from behind her and she jumped. She let her focus shift from the old photo of herself winning the spelling bee in 1990 to Damon's reflection in the glass. "Now I get it. You didn't seem like the type to hang out with kids…but this place means something to you,"

"Yeah, well, there's a lot you don't know about me," she said and she saw his lips turn up into a lopsided smile over her shoulder in the reflection of the case. She'd done it again; she always managed to be so cold toward him. Scolding his drunk ass in the bar was one thing, but he was only being kind toward her now. She couldn't blame the influence of alcohol for the heat rising in her cheeks. Caught on the strong features of his face for a second, she saw his eyes float over her profile almost affectionately and turned, afraid of the warmth working its way too deep into her chest. She wasn't used to a man looking at her as anything special.

"Yeah, like that you're an excellent speller," he wiggled his eyebrows and she was able to pull it back together. He was still the cocky, sarcastic man he'd always been toward her. Nothing new. Nothing _sweet_. She closed her eyes for a second in embarrassment as he continued to speak, praying she wasn't giving herself away.

"'Elena Gilbert, 8, is named New York State Spelling Champion...'" he read the text below the yellowing photo. "Adorable. Tiny Elena actually smiled." His squinted eyes moved back to her.

She felt something kick in her chest for just a moment before stepping away from the glass and clearing her throat. She chalked up the tender feelings to an attack of nostalgia and tried to get her head back into focus after eyeing his neatly pressed fatigues and shiny boots. He was put together well. His face looked smooth and she'd smelled a hint of cinnamon on his breath when he'd leaned in behind her at the trophy case.

"What are you even doing here, Damon?" She asked quickly, ready to change the subject.

"Same thing you are," he ran his hand over the short buzz of his hair with a shit-eating grin still on his face. So he was playing games now, was he? Vague answers, smirks...she'd bet he got away with a lot where women were concerned.

She rolled her eyes and mentally slapped herself for playing back. "Andrews was supposed to be the second representative for career day. We've been planning our speech since last week," she frowned. She'd been relieved to his name on the sheet with hers. He at least had his head on straight and would be a good example to these children about what the military represented. And from all she knew about Damon Salvatore, he _wasn't_.

"Something came up. But he didn't want to cancel. Don't worry. I called the school to let them know ahead of time." He smiled.

"He told you and not me?" She frowned.

"I'm decent friends with the guy," he said seriously, "And I heard you talking about it with Forbes before therapy the other day. I didn't want you to have to go alone," she waited for a wink or a smarmy comment to follow but neither did. His eyes twinkled at her again and for reasons she couldn't think about, she liked it.

"Why?" She asked, startled. Things had calmed down since their run in at the bar a few weeks back. He'd gone to therapy two times since and had toned down the sarcastic comments but still looked at her as if he had a secret. She'd never admit it to anyone, especially Damon, but she'd actually started looking forward to his check-ins….so much so that she made them last a little longer than necessary. He'd been doing his exercises and the healing had progressed surprisingly nicely. In another week he'd be out of her life…clinic…and her job would be easy again. Seeing him elsewhere wouldn't stir a damn thing inside her…would it?

She almost thought she was going to get out of it without needing to worry about the pressing on her chest that came every time he left. She couldn't dream of missing someone she didn't even know. And Damon Salvatore, of all people, was safer from a distance.

She'd learned that the second she'd caught herself staring at him across the dining hall last week…and at a restaurant as he'd shamelessly thrown himself at a waitress. But the strangest thing had happened afterward. They'd locked eyes, much as they had that night at the bar, and had some sort of indescribable moment. She'd never liked looking a man as much as did Damon and she feared her eyes told him that. But then it snapped, as always, and they went about their separate days as if no tension existed at all.

"Well, as much as you'd like it to be true, we _aren't_ strangers," he said.

He shrugged, afraid to admit he just liked the thought of spending time with her outside of therapy. "And this may come as a surprise, Elena," She squirmed at the way her first name sounded from his lips. She was always Gilbert, except to Caroline. She was seen the way she'd wanted to be; another solider to be taken seriously. But this man was different; she had trouble getting the feel of his hands on her shoulder in the bar a few weeks back out of her head. "But I'm not that bad of a guy," His hand leaned above her shoulder and pressed against the glass of the case. "Believe me…" he almost whispered.

"I...okay…uh…" she started and his eyes caught on her lips. As much as she probably wanted to deny it, she was staring at his, too. Ugh, her body was betraying her common sense.

"I make you nervous," he smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind one of her ears. "You're flushed. What's the matter, Elena?" he tipped his head to the side and she felt her cheeks grow even hotter. Why couldn't she just shake it off and push him away? And why did his lips look so damn soft?

"It's hot and I can't breathe," She said quickly and frowned. "What are you doing?" Her voice shook, but not from fear, and his hand made a continuous stroking motion over the area of hair he'd pushed out of her face.

"Fixing you," his eyes narrowed on her and her heart slammed. Oh, he was fixing her alright. He was a huge distraction that was fixing her into a hot mess that she'd never dreamed of being. "You're going to march in there all windblown in front of a bunch of bratty kids…Come on, Gilbert," he winked. And it sounded like a really good, really easy to believe reason as to why he was still touching her hair, but it was a damn lie. "I bet they've never seen a pretty soldier…"

The hallway was hot and silent and his eyes were solely on hers. No waitress. No Daphne…her…and God knows why, but she couldn't get enough. And there was no telling what she would've done if he'd tried anything else on her. How inappropriate! Not only were they in a school but in full uniform, and there she stood…a bundle of hormones…

"Captain Gilbert and Sergeant Salvatore," a familiar called from down the hall and they both jumped apart. He stopped abruptly to take in the scene before him, but thought better of it before he asked. Elena pressed her cold hands to her cheeks and gave him a reassuring nod. "So are you two ready, then?" The old man with white hair clapped his hands together in delight and smiled as he met Elena's eyes.

"Yes, sir," Damon said respectfully, extending his hand. The man shook it and turned his attention toward the other soldier.

"It is so good to see you, Elena. You've become everything you always said you would," he reached a hand to her and Damon watched carefully. She shook it and gave him a soft smile. "Your father would be proud," he added.

"Thank you, sir," she said with a sharp breath, as if he'd just knocked the wind out of her. She could still remember the day her mother had called her school to tell them she'd be needing stay home for a while. As an adult, Elena could remember few things that had affected her as much as that house fire and losing a parent. She'd never been the same after that.

Damon saw her eyes shift from caring to sad in a flash and tucked the feeling it gave him in his back pocket for later. He'd only seen her irritated and serious before this. Hearing the tiniest sliver of vulnerability in her voice softened something inside of him. Maybe her rough attitude had something to do with her past. But he was probably the last person on earth she'd ever talk to about her personal life.

"Are you just about ready?" Principal Williams asked, extending his hand out toward a classroom door. "First graders are a handful, you know, even in this school," he winked, but Damon could only focus on the coloring of Elena's face.

"I've got this. You can stay out here, Salvatore," she said flatly, feeling the need to take charge after the little tension that had flared up between them just moments ago. Deep breaths.

She started walking through the classroom door without looking back at Damon.

"And some grow up, graduate from this place and are _still _a handful," Damon said under his breath and Pricipal Williams sent him a smile.

In a moment she was staring into twenty pairs of innocent eyes, tugging her piece of paper out of her fatigues and clearing her throat. It had been a long time since she'd dealt with kids. She wasn't one to babysit; she took care of Jeremy from time to time in high school, but she'd never had to worry about impressing them. When it came right down to it, she had no idea how to make this fun for them.

"Good afternoon, first graders…" she started. As she looked up at their tiny, bored stares, she'd never felt less capable. "My name is Captain Elena Gilbert and I'm a Physical Therapist at Fort Drum in…"

"Aw man!Where's the soldier?" A blonde boy asked from the back. She looked down at her fatigues and frowned.

Elena heard the door click open and gritted her teeth as she saw Damon entering out of the corner of her eye. She really wasn't in the mood to watch him smile at her knowingly from across the room as she embarrassed herself in front of a group of kids. Yes, they'd had a speech, but she hadn't planned on all the rejection from the get go.

"I thought we were supposed to see a solider. What's this girl doing here?"

"Yeah, where are the guns and stuff?" Another kid yelled from the back. "This is boring,"

"Class," the young, thin teacher started, shooting Elena an apologetic glance.

"Hey look," a little girl bounced up and down in her seat pointing at Damon. "There's the soldier."

"Woah, cool," a little boy said, running up to him. Damon crouched down in front of the boy and stared into his eyes with his hands extended. "You're cool. I thought we were going to have to listen to a girl…"

"You bet you're going to listen to her," Damon said seriously with raised eyebrows. He stood up and walked over toward Elena. "Captain Gilbert here is a higher rank than I am. Men and Women can _both_ join the Army. And she's a great soldier with a lot of cool information, okay? So you should listen to her. She heals people…like me," his voice softened and she felt something inside of her thaw. "She's fixing me…" he pointed to his ankle.

Elena swallowed back the emotion resting at the back of her throat. She hadn't figured on him defending her…not even to a group of seven year olds. Almost afraid to make eye contact with him while still in the classroom, she gave him a quick nod and started her speech again. The rest of the fifteen minutes had gone fine. Elena listed off the different job opportunities the Amy offered and explained how being a physical therapist was a way to serve without being in combat. Their intent hadn't been to plant ideas in the head of small kids. Career day was about educating children about the different opportunities life had to offer. The faces she was looking into were the youth of 9/11; many had been born just before or after life in America was forever changed.

And when she thought about it, it was sort of silly to that she hadn't been much older than the children in this room when she'd set her heart on enlisting when she was old enough. It hadn't taken a national tragedy to make her want to sign up…just a personal one.

When the bell rang signifying the end of the class the kids filed out gratefully and they were left alone in the classroom.

"Okay, Captain. Smile like you mean it," Damon said, pulling a digital camera out of his pack. "Proof that we did something good today." His finger hovered over the button for a minute as she stood near a sign that said 'Willowbrook.'

"We can hang it in the halls out there with your trophy picture," he teased. "Or maybe up on a bulletin board in the chow hall."

"Don't push it," she warned him, but the smile she eventually gave him looked genuine enough to him. "Get it over with. I'm hungry."

"Oh yeah, this is sure to rid you of that Grumpy Gilbert thing…" he added with wide eyes. He snapped the picture and let it load into the screen. But when he actually looked at it, he noticed something he hadn't before. She didn't look irritated at all. "Yeah, this is a good one. Maybe I'll keep it."

"Please don't," she said, although the thought of him wanting something of her wasn't completely horrible. Eh, she didn't really care to know what he did with the picture, so long as there weren't rumors circulating around it. Little did she know it would travel overseas and keep him sane.

"Let's get out of this place. That was rough…" she huffed.

"I'm sorry about that," Miss Thatcher said with a frown as she resumed her seat at the desk in her classroom. "They were very disrespectful." Elena frowned as the woman's eyes slid along the contours of Damon's face. Ugh.

"Its fine," Elena spoke up, pulling the woman's attention back toward her. "But we better get going," she shot an eyebrow raising glance. She almost looked jealous. His lips turned up slowly and he followed her down the hallway and out to her car.

Reluctantly he leaned his back against the back door of the base's van and waited for her to shoot her mouth off about him 'being the hero.' He opened mouth and put his hand out to stop her from scolding him when he was instead met with something akin to gratefulness and relief in her eyes.

"So maybe I am too grumpy," she admitted. "Or boring,"

"No way," he smiled, crossing his arms against his chest and relaxing against the van's window. "You were good in there. Kids are relentless,"

"You were good with them. They liked you," she smiled appreciatively, feeling her walls slightly lowering.

"That's because I'm still one of them," he said with a grin. "You know that," The wind whipped and he saw a chill run through her body. He stood by the point he'd made to the kids. She was a damn good soldier…but she was still a woman and the tiny pieces of vulnerability she'd shown him, even if by accident, were enough to keep him hanging on.

"Okay I'll admit it. You had my back today when I started to lose it," her lips pressed together. "Thank you."

"See, I'm not so bad," he said. "But _don't_ lose it, okay? They're a bunch of silly kids. They don't understand how this works. They don't think about what those guys are doing to become heroes. This shit takes real guts, Elena…." As if she didn't know. "And that isn't something you stand up and explain in front of a group of 7 year olds,"

She frowned, confused but afraid to ask him to elaborate. Maybe there really was more to him than the cocky guy she'd originally thought.

"You're afraid," she whispered. She stopped, noticing her voice sounded kind and concerned.

The wind whipped through again and reddened his cheeks. She frowned when she noticed a small cut below his eye that she hadn't seen before. And damn it if she didn't reach out to press her hand on his cheek without thinking. After a few seconds she caught herself and tore her hand back before he could place his over it.

"No," he shook his head. "I have nothing to lose," he smiled sadly. "I'm the perfect solider. I'll lead my boys over there if and when I'm chosen. I was meant to go over and fight. I have nobody," he raised his hands up and stepped away from the van before she could say another word.

With a deep breath she saw a strange, sad expression on her face in the van's window and backed away from the car, reminding herself who they were and _where_ they were.

Captain and Sergeant. Physical Therapist and patient. No touching. No staring. No Anything.

No Damon and Elena.

His outlook was just so tragic. She'd always been cold and serious about her job, but in the back of her mind she remembered the family she loved. And Damon was right about heroes. Her father was the greatest man she knew; he'd been a hero long before he ever went to war. He'd saved her every time he'd put a band-aid on a scraped knee. She could be as tough as she wanted but she would never forget the purpose behind her choices in life. But her father had gone to war knowing he was loved. Had he been afraid? He'd never seemed to be.

She couldn't help but wonder what was worse: a solider going off to war afraid he'd never see his family again…or a soldier running into battle unafraid because he thought no one cared if he ever came home.

He hadn't put it so plainly but she could see it just the same. The kind of fear that lived inside the man before her ran deeper than the common dread of deployment. And she was crazy if she thought she could fix every single broken soldier at Fort Drum, but she wasn't sure she could stand to see this particular one so lonely. It almost seemed like he was hoping he got deployed.

He cleared his throat. "I'll see you in therapy in a few days. One more time, huh?" He sent her a small wave as she unlocked the door to the van. "Then this will be over," he looked between them.

"Damon," she was surprised to hear her call out to him. "Come on. I'll take you back,"

He stood for a second just thinking. He'd opened his mouth enough that day. If he got into that van with her, he might end up talking again…and he didn't talk to women. Especially not women like Elena Gilbert. She was fierce and beautiful and more than he could handle. And he respected her more than he could admit, because she didn't put up with his shit. He was brave because he didn't have anything to lose and he needed to keep it that way.

And he'd already pushed his limits by begging Andrews to let him go in his place that day. He'd probably never hear the end of it if the guy knew why Damon had really wanted to go. It had nothing to do with community outreach. Yep. It was time to go out for a beer with the boys and forget about this woman…soldier…Elena…

"Nah, walking's good on the ankle," he pointed down to it and smiled. "See ya round…"

* * *

**Present Day, Saturday morning...**

Matt woke slowly to the sound of his shower running. A quick glance at his alarm clock told him it was 6 a.m. and Saturday. There was no good reason for her to be awake. It was still dark outside, but the bathroom door was cracked open to let in just enough light for him to notice his dresser drawers open and a full bag on the floor below.

Frowning when he noticed the side of the bed she'd been sleeping on was cold, he threw his covers off and let his bare feet press onto the cold hardwood floor. His hand paused on the door, feeling the hot steam press against his face. The scent of lavender soap invaded his senses and his stomach warmed. Not so long ago this was nothing more than a fantasy. He was surrounded by the things she loved, but that didn't mean she loved him.

As he stepped inside he found her crumpled in the corner of the shower, one shoulder against the back wall and the other pressed on the sliding glass door. Her face was buried in her hands as the water pounded down from his fancy showerhead on her in a rhythm she'd once told him she found soothing.

His throat was hot and tight with emotion as he struggled to process what she was fighting. With a breath, he squatted down by the other door and slid it open just a crack to talk to her.

"Elena," he started. But she didn't look up and her shoulders shook harder. Cautiously his eyes floated to the bathroom counter. Amongst her lotions and makeup sat her closed bottle of anxiety medication. "Baby, what's the matter?"

When she didn't answer he panicked. It had been a long time since she'd zoned out this hard. He thought she was over it, that life was starting to even out and she was going to see that her worries and troubles were only in her head. He loved Elena but hated her medication…hated that he wasn't enough to fix her. But he never had been, really. Playing house with her had done a damn good job of tricking him, too, because he'd almost started to believe they had a real future.

Her silent sobs were deafening. He stepped in the shower, still in his black sweatpants, and moved to lift her shaking body up. "Elena…" He struggled to hold himself together as she fell apart in his arms. Her arms were still covered in soap and slippery, as if she'd started out fine and melted down gradually. "Open your eyes. Talk to me…" He pushed the smooth, wet plains of her hair away from her eyes and turned off the water. "You've got to say something...tell me what's wrong…if this is about earlier, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I even suggested the trip…"

"Damon," She croaked. It was a good thing she'd taken her medication because she was out of her damn mind for choosing _this_, of all the ways, to tell him Damon was home.

"What? Baby, no…" He frowned and pressed her forehead into the crook of his neck. "It's not Damon," he sounded broken. But this was nothing new. Part of being in love with an "Army Girlfriend," so to speak, was dealing with her nightmares. This wasn't the first time she'd called him Damon….

Still…it didn't feel good. It didn't get easier with time like he told himself it would. Because her boyfriend hadn't died; he'd come home and abandoned her, and it had been Matt to pick up the pieces and try to make her whole again. He reminded himself of this every time it happened. He had to…he'd waited too long to stop loving her now.

Lifting her out of the shower, he set her on the closed toilet seat and wrapped a soft towel around her, rubbing her arms in hopes to shock her back into reality. And his eyes stung with tears the second she opened hers. They were puffy and red, but surprisingly dry; it was as if she'd cried herself completely dry.

"See? It's me. It's Matt. You're in my apartment and you're safe,"

"I know," she tried through a newly raw throat. She blinked a few times and somehow produced tears. "I know where I am and who you are…"

"You called me Damon again," he said carefully, waiting for her reaction. She'd usually tried to deny it or completely closed up and didn't talk to him for another hour. In the past, she'd finally come around and apologized, saying she hadn't meant anything by it…hadn't meant to hurt his feelings. And they weren't lies. She loved him; she just wasn't _in_ love with him. She had his best interests at heart. And that was why she'd nearly lost her damn mind over how to tell him.

No amount of preparation would've made it easier. The pressure mounting on her had simply become too much. Between the gut-wrenching interaction with Damon just a few days ago and the fact that she was lying to Matt, she'd lost it. She kept seeing the broken look in his eyes, feeling his hesitant hands on her back and remembering the final text he'd sent that heartbreaking night.

_Sorry, I can't go on vacation with you because my almost fiancé (oh yeah, sorry I never told you about that) is home and I might still love him…_ That wasn't going to work.

**Then Tell Him. **

It had almost seemed like something the old Damon would've said. It sounded confident, demanding. And it had been enough to get her to finally pedal hard up that mountain and do it. Damon wasn't just passing through her life to say _hi_. He was a part of it again… a bigger part than he probably wanted or knew. She wasn't ashamed to admit that she wanted it that way; she just knew how quickly a wall would fly up between her and Matt once she admitted it. And he was her friend, her medical partner. She just couldn't love him like he wanted, and pairing _that_ piece of information with the fact her ex was back in town sounded too childish and wicked. Worst of all, she was selfish enough to want to keep Matt around as a friend, as if she wasn't about to just tear out his heart and stomp all over it.

She and Damon weren't anywhere on the path to rebuilding their romantic relationship, but having feelings that ran so deep for him reminded her how horrible she'd been to try and force herself to love Matt. It hadn't worked. She'd known it wouldn't all along. She wasn't being fair to either of any of them.

And after that little invitation she'd extended to him earlier that morning, she pretty much _had_ to tell Matt now. She didn't want to turn into another Thanksgiving surprise the way it had before. If they were going to her Mom's house he was going to find out. She really needed to keep the rest of her family out of her mess. Since when had owning up to something been so hard?

She shook her head and looked at Matt sadly. "No. I didn't call you Damon…" She watched the creases of confusion form on his forehead and almost thought the better of dropping it on him like this. For all he knew she was in the middle of a panic attack or she'd sleep walked into the shower. "God, I don't want to tell you like this, Matty…" she reached out and touched his face. He'd been such a good friend to her. She'd seen his clear blue eyes for the first time twelve years ago when he'd transferred to her high school mid-senior year. She was about to kiss her chances of a white picket fence style life goodbye…

"Just tell me. Whatever it is, it's okay. Did you have a nightmare? Did you see him in a dream? You know I won't be angry with you. It's not your fault," he reached up to touch the hand that cupped his chin and smiled comfortingly. "You can _always_ be honest with me." Her hand fell from him and she tried to look away, but he raised her chin up to look into her eyes. "I love you,"

Ugh. Wasn't that just a dagger to the chest! He was too good and way too kind for a straying heart and mind like hers. He deserved someone without a ghost.

"Damon's home," She whispered so softly she wasn't sure he heard. "Damon's back," she repeated through a gasp, and it felt good for just a moment, until she saw his eyes cool and the color drain from his face.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! **


	5. Falling

**A/N: So I decided to incorporate a flashback in this chapter. It links up with this chapter, but it's meant more to get everyone ready for the next chapter. As for the present stuff in this one, we've got a little bit of Damon (and someone else) and a little bit of Elena and Matt. It's kind of a chance for DE to realize some things about themselves.**

**I've chosen The Civil Wars' "Falling" for this chapter for the Matt and Elena portion. **

**As always, thanks for reading! **

* * *

**Through The Ghost**

**Chapter 4: Falling**

**2008**

"Well good morning, sunshine," Damon said, falling into pace with her as she jogged through a park a mile away from base. It was early November and the chilly air felt good in his lungs as he pounded through his third mile of the morning. She looked focused, as if she were trying to run something out of her system. "Whatcha listening to? Something angsty?" His lips turned lopsided and she rolled her eyes.

She took in a lungful of the crisp air and her eyes slid down to his now healed ankle. "Morning, Damon," she said, tugging her ear buds out of and letting them fall around her neck. "Wow. Witty comments at 5 a.m. Judging by what I've seen of your nightly behavior, I wouldn't have figured you'd be able to do much at this hour. I'm impressed."

"You have no idea," he said and he watched some color take root in her cheeks. Nope, the wind wasn't getting credit this time. He was officially worming his way under her skin.

"How's the ankle?" She asked after a few seconds, letting the banter die down.

"It's perfect. Thanks to you, I'm back in shape and ready for whatever. Good as new." Damon sent her a look of gratitude and watched it soak in.

They jogged in silence for a moment and he half expected her to turn a corner to get away from him. She'd been running hot and cold since the minute they'd met; he could never tell what kind of mood she'd be in. And he typically didn't deal with bullshit from anyone, especially not from women. But something about her kept him in the game. Behind her strong, bold eyes, something was waiting to be freed. She wasn't a conquest; she was a deep, beautiful woman who seemed too hard on herself.

"So now that your therapy is over, are you ever going to tell me how it happened?" They came to the edge of the park and stopped for a few cars to pass so they could cross. He watched her swipe the sweat off her forehead. And as her chest rose and fell, he wished for a moment he'd been the cause for all the heaving breathing. Confusing or not, she was stuck in his brain.

"Hm well, it's really none of your business is it now?" His breathing was heavier, too. He saw her eyes float down his neck to the sweat soaked front of his grey t-shirt. "I mean the therapy is done and if I remember right, that means I don't have to answer you. In fact, I think you were counting the weeks until we didn't have to spend time together anymore. Or am I wrong?"

"Yet you're following me like a puppy," she tipped her head toward him and grinned. "I jog the same route every morning at 5 a.m., Damon, and I've never seen you out here before,"

"Yeah, well, I've been out of commission for a while," he smirked. "And you're the newbie. So maybe you're the one who stole my routine," he wiggled his eyebrows until she rolled her eyes. "But that's okay. I'm good at sharing. And then you wouldn't have to listen to all that angry music. You could talk to me instead. I'm sure I could make you plenty angry if I tried," he winked.

She shook her head as the final car passed and began to job across the street again. Today was a good day for her, he decided; she was playing back. If she'd really wanted to be alone he would've seen her eyes grow cold. Instead, there was something curious inside them, and it made the blood pump harder through his veins.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd pursued a woman for reasons other than sex. Actually, he _never_ had. He had buddies, but never a healthy relationship with any female. His mother was a horrible excuse for a woman who'd never been a comfort to him. For years he treated women as one night, two night deals because he didn't know how to be attached. He wasn't naïve enough to believe all women were petty and dangerous; he'd just never given himself the opportunity to find one caring about. Did it make him a pig? Maybe. But it was easier to seem like a pig than to admit the real reasons behind his detachment.

The thought of forming a connection with someone scared him. Not only because he thought he might fail; but because his life wasn't his own. It'd be easier to go off to war one day if he didn't have to leave anyone behind. But if life was going to let him have one person to miss, someone like Elena would be the winner…or loser…because she wasn't like anyone he'd ever known.

"Okay I'll make you a deal," he said. "I'll tell you what really happened to my ankle if you tell me why you practically shoved me out of the clinic after my last checkup and why you gave me the cold shoulders at Applebee's later that day,"

She frowned and stopped. "What?"

"Come on! Don't pretend you didn't see me. You were two tables away and at one point I saw you look right at me. Actually, it was more of a glare…" he narrowed his eyes playfully and she rolled her eyes.

"How could I miss you? You should really tell your girlfriend it's not polite to act that way in public," she recalled the way the woman had crawled onto his lap in the booth to kiss him. "People go there to eat. If they wanted a perv show, they'd go to a strip club."

"Wow. Tell me how you really feel," he smiled. "And one other thing…she isn't my girlfriend," he clarified. "But it's nice to know you care."

"Well then it's even less appropriate," she answered and he saw the jealousy flaring in her eyes. "I didn't say hi to you because I didn't know I was supposed to. And even if I'd wanted to, your tongue was so far down Daphne's throat you wouldn't have been able to respond anyway,"

"Interesting. Fair enough, I guess." he said simply. "But why the hurry up approach when I was leaving the other day? If you'd given me the chance, I wanted to really say thank you but you barely looked me in the eyes when you said bye. I know I've been kind of difficult this whole time, but I thought we actually were getting along toward the end."

"Kind of difficult?" She smiled. "Your appointments ran twice as long as everyone else's. If you'd cut out half of the conversation you could've been in and out of there much faster,"

"Well it looks like you'll have all kinds of time now that I won't be making you stay so late,"

"I wouldn't say that," she shook her head. "I'm pretty focused. I'll find other things to keep me busy. I always do. That's my life, Damon." He got that her announcement was a reminder to herself.

"Or you could take a break tonight and come out with us," he tried.

Yeah, it had been the entire reason he'd started up the conversation to begin with, but going all gangbusters at her at this hour wasn't likely to win him brownie points. If he'd learned one thing about Elena, it was that it was best to test the waters before diving in head first. He continued,

"It's Mikaelson's birthday and we were going to go out for a few _sensible_ drinks," she opened her mouth to interrupt but he pressed his finger gently over her lips. He smiled at their softness and scrambled to get back his thoughts. "Don't worry, we wouldn't be in uniform. You won't have to scold me one time," he added. "And I'd like it if this time, we were there together. On purpose…instead of all that sticky tension shit like before. Might be fun,"

But there was plenty of tension happening just then, because he hadn't realized it, but somehow his thumb and started working over her bottom lip and she let it happen for a good thirty seconds before her hand went up and pulled it down. He braced himself for the backlash, but instead he felt her hand shaking in his and saw a look of vulnerability he'd never expected to receive from her.

"Why would you invite me? I barely know him." She'd always been so snappy and confident, but was that doubt in her eyes? He wondered if she ever thought of herself as anything other than a soldier. Did she ever let herself feel a thing other than concern for others? If not, he wasn't surprised she was so tense all the time. He could only imagine the strong aspects of her personality she'd been holding back. Her lifeblood was banging to get out of and live.

"It could double as a celebration," he looked down at his ankle.

"What I did was no miracle," she swallowed. "I did my job. You did your exercises," His fingers pulled out of her hand and went up to her chin. There was no way he was going to let her look down or away from him. As long as her big eyes were on him, they were on the same level…connected…and it was undeniable. "This kind of thing happens every single day."

"Not to me," he said then scrambled to remember what they were talking about. Taking a breath, he continued, "Besides, it might do you some good to let go a little. You might be a little less stressed if you let yourself just relax,"

"Now you sound like Caroline," she said, but the feel of her hand on his was just enough to get her to crack. She wasn't used to being so affected by one person. "But I don't think so. I'm sure Daphne wouldn't appreciate that so much. And honestly, she has the personality of a…"

"She won't be there," he confirmed. "It'd just be you and me," he took a sharp breath and held it. Rejection wasn't something he was accustomed to feeling; partly because he knew all the right words to say to women without inhibitions and partly because he'd never given a damn.

"Oh," she dropped her hand and stepped back, looking away to conceal the fear in her eyes.

"Well and Kol," he added. "Obviously…" Now he was the one who sounded nervous.

"Then that's _really_ not a good idea," her eyes widened. He'd never seen _that_ look before. He wished he could see the thoughts running through her mind, but was content with the idea that he might be star of them.

"Why?" He laughed.

"If people saw us…we shouldn't be out like that," she shook her head. "I don't know how that would go over…."

"I didn't know we weren't allowed to be friends," he smiled. "We're adults. We can handle ourselves. And who cares what they think?"

"I do," she said seriously and he frowned. "I've worked hard for this,"

"You think people will think less of you for spending time with me?" He frowned. "Am I that bad? And here I just thought we were really good at the banter thing. I didn't think you actually hated me…"

"No," she shook her head. "That's not what it is,"

"You're afraid to relax. God forbid you actually _enjoy _yourself. You think they won't take you seriously. To that I say _fuck them_," he smiled. "People are allowed to have lives…even in the military. And this is no big deal," he shrugged. "So come on and say yes. I promise it'll be fine. If I'm wrong, I'll bring you home and even say I'm sorry,"

They walked to a water fountain and she leaned down to get a drink. "Don't make me ask again," he added.

"As if you would," she rolled her eyes. "Please. I'm sure you have a rolodex of women you could flip through and find someone to accompany you in fifteen minutes or less."

"Maybe," he said seriously. "But I don't want them." He watched her breath catch in her throat and realized what he'd just admitted. Hurrying to smooth it over, he started again. "But this isn't about that. Come on, Elena. There's something going on in your head and I get the feeling you don't want to deal with it. So why don't you let me just help you for once,"

"I still don't understand why you want me to come,"

"It's simple," he smiled. And it was. The reasons _were_ simple; but there was a depth behind them he was still nervous to explore. "We're good together." He swore he actually heard her heart thudding. "So think what you will, but once you get to know me better…and you will…you'll understand how very hard that is for me."

And instead of her going off on some spree about how she wanted nothing to do with him and that he had it all wrong, she changed the subject back to the original one.

"Can I invite Caroline?" She asked and he sighed. Well, she hadn't said _no_.

"Uh…"

"Well what? You said this wasn't a big deal, so why can't she come?"

"Fine. If that's what it takes, then fine. But she was all over Kol last time and the guy isn't looking for anything serious. He's got to be able to relax tonight…"

"She won't. Trust me. She'll be happy I'm the one inviting her somewhere for a change," she added. "So…what's with the ankle?" She reminded him.

"The truth?" His brow knit together. He wished he had some glorious story about working himself to the bone, but he didn't. "I tripped. I was walking back to my room with a lot of stuff in my hands and I didn't see a big tree branch. I fell and I twisted my ankle. Awesome, huh?"

He saw her face relax. What had she expected him to say? Knowing her, he probably assumed it had been alcohol related. "It happens," she smiled. He waited for her to make fun of him, but it never came.

"Yeah," he leaned down to get a sip of water and when he came up, she was staring at him with different eyes. "So we were planning on going somewhere nicer tonight. You know Abel's?"

"That's pretty fancy," she said.

"Well the guy only turns 23 once, you know," he smiled. "And it's nice to class it up once in a while. Besides," he shrugged. "In this business, you never know if you'll see another birthday."

She met him with sad eyes for just a moment before she nodded. Maybe she saw he really _was_ a decent guy after all. He wasn't sure how she figured he'd treat her if he actually took her out, but it wouldn't be the way she'd seen him act with women before. And he didn't dream of calling any of his other excursions up to go somewhere nice. Nights like these were reserved for a few select people. And slowly but surely, Elena Gilbert had worked her way into that small pool of people he cared about.

"Wear something nice. I'll pick you up at 7. Caroline can ride with us but I don't want to hear her smarmy comments from the backseat," he raised his eyebrows. "And don't eat dinner before…"

He didn't have it in him to tell her he'd originally planned for just the two of them to go out to eat before they met up with Kol. Caroline joining the mix meant he'd have to adjust his plans accordingly. "It's more of a dinner and drinks kind of thing…"

She swallowed and he stepped closer. "You're about to change your mind, aren't you? You're trying to come up with an excuse right now about why you can't go…" She looked up at him confused, as if he'd just read her mind.

"I don't know…"

"So stick with the original yes and I'll see you at 7," he suggested, tugging his hood over his hair as snowflakes started to fall. "I'm going to head back," he tipped his head in the other direction. "I expect a smile tonight," he said. And she didn't make him wait; he swore his heart fluttered as she bit her lip and her lips turned up into a small smirk.

* * *

**Present Day, Damon's apartment, Saturday morning... **

The clock read 6:30 a.m. and instead of hiding under the thin covers of his bed as he normally did, Damon was up at his kitchen table staring into a steaming hot mug of strong coffee. He'd showered, shaved and pulled on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, all in hopes of trying to start another day.

Nights were the hardest. He slept too lightly, waking at the slightest of noises in a cold sweat. It was hard to believe he'd ever managed to share a bed with someone. He hadn't slept soundly since before he learned he'd been deployed. He'd made a no-going-back decision that night, and even after their little 'talk' a few days ago, the question he'd asked her was still lingering in the air between them. He felt it every time she got a little too close.

What would he have done if he'd come home a destroyed husband instead of just…this?

When he was younger and more carefree, he'd left a lot of things up to chance. He'd joined the military on the flip of a coin. When it landed 'heads,' he enlisted and figured whatever was going to happen was, no matter how much time or thought he put into it. He'd die in war if it was meant to be.

And then he'd met Elena and was suddenly hit head on with feelings he'd never planned on having. And he'd gone and asked her to marry him only to find her eyes fill with tears and panic, and remembered why he'd never tried to intervene with 'fate,' so to speak, before then. Because really wanting something and not getting it really _hurt. _

It hadn't felt like it at the time, but it had probably worked out for the best. Considering the condition he was currently in, what the hell would he have done if she'd said _yes_? He wouldn't have been able to hide in Chicago for two years. If she was so upset about the way he acted now, she'd never have been able to handle him when he'd first come home.

And instead of her broken ex-boyfriend he'd be an emotionally distant husband….another reason to feel inadequate and guilty, as if he didn't already have enough. He hadn't thought about _that_ when he'd proposed. But he probably wouldn't feel so damn guilty about surviving if he actually had family to come home to instead of an unanswered question. The men who'd died right before his eyes had wives, children… if anyone should've died, it was him. He had no real obligations. Elena would've moved on if she hadn't already….

On the coldest, craziest nights in Iraq, he'd been angry with her for leaving things the way they had. She cared about him; there was no doubt in his mind that what they had was real. They weren't just playing around. But no one had ever really looked him in the eye and told him they loved him since he was a small, small child. Including her. Not even when he had death breathing down the back of his neck. He never held it against her, either. He felt her love for him in everything she did.

They each had reasons for the decisions they'd made. She'd chosen to wait and he'd hidden from her because he'd lost his mind. He could possibly face her answer when he returned. And they each had reasons to be angry and bitter with the other, too. In a way, they'd both hung each other out to dry. Yet he couldn't shake her for the same reasons she couldn't walk away and leave him suffer. Despite the worst circumstances they'd faced, they still needed to be near each other….for peace of mind, if nothing more. For as brief and wonderful as it had been, his life had made sense when they were together. And more than anything else in the world, he needed sense now.

In that warzone, he ran like hell to survive because he couldn't die without knowing her answer. Yeah, some soldier he was. His country and duty had taken a back burner to his personal life. No matter how many times people called him a hero he wouldn't ever fully believe it.

It was no wonder he usually slept in. The more hours he was awake, the more time the demons of his past had to slam around in his head. He wasn't ready to start thinking about what part Elena would play in his life. Sure, eventually they'd have to talk about what happened, but right now he was content to just see her face and know she was there, especially on the maddening days when it seemed he_ wasn't_.

Sometimes he still felt like a failure, but every now and then on good days, like this one seemed to be, he could feel the progress he'd made. The cool winter wind bit his skin and he glared at his broken living room window, reminding how even the coldest days here felt warmer than the nights he'd spent alone in the desert.

There had to be life post-Iraq. The more he told himself that, the more desperate he became to believe it; it had sounded so beautiful coming from her lips. That was the thing about her. She drove him bat-shit crazy sometimes but calmed him down better than anyone he'd ever known.

What the hell was he doing? He'd been home for two and half years, yet had nothing to say for it. As soon as he'd called Alaric to tell him he'd be in town for a while, his friend had practically insisted he move in the apartment above the hardware shop. His buddy had just broken up with his girlfriend of three years; they could both use a friend, he'd said. But he hadn't been much of a friend _or_ an employee, had he? He ran the back office because he didn't want to be in the public, but Alaric wouldn't let him stay up in the apartment alone after he'd found him on the ground next to his wheelchair with an empty bottle of whiskey.

Alcohol wasn't a problem, he'd told Alaric; it was a way to pass the time. But he was a liar because there wasn't a damn thing he'd been working toward. Drowning in alcohol wasn't going to get his head straightened out any time soon…or ready to see Elena again…

And the same was true now. He'd done a damn good job of showing her his scary side these days…a disabled, hallucinating, violent veteran with a drinking problem wasn't something she was looking for in a man…friend…he was sure. He couldn't place just when the self-doubt had started to take over his brain, but it had gotten a little too comfortable.

He came home to New York to be with her. He'd promised her something that had seemed so feasible at the time; when he'd walked away from her as they said goodbye for the last time four years ago, he couldn't imagine ever living without her. He'd gone through so much as a child; he'd never really felt at home with anyone until Elena. And damn him if he didn't almost feel that way now when he looked into her gentle eyes.

He didn't want her pity but the idea of her friendship warmed something inside of him. It was a good thing his heart was too numb to break; instead it stirred uncomfortably at the thought of her wrapped up warmly in Matt's bed while he lie alone, staring at a crinkly old picture of her, willing himself to remember how to relax. Let go of the fear. Remember what it felt like to feel happy.

She was kind toward him...far more so than he deserved. And he had nothing to offer her. He couldn't bring himself to go into details about the battlefield or his injuries, and though he wished she'd been right when she said there was more to him than just what he'd seen in the war, there just wasn't. Not yet. But that kind of thing was at least in his control. Maybe it was time he picked his ass up and got moving. A life of misery and sadness didn't sound like much of a life at all.

He couldn't go back to the man he'd been before, and there were several reasons for that. Most of it was mental, but a lot of it was physical, too.

He'd never be a womanizer again; he had no desire to take random women in his bed after he'd learned what it was like to have just one. And that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. There were so many reasons why the thought of Elena in his bed again terrified him.

He'd once loved getting up in the morning and going for crisp runs to start the day. He could barely walk on his prosthetic foot; running was out of the question right now. Maybe he should put away his pride and let her help him in that matter. It had always been a matter of self-punishment. The pain reminded him of what he'd done; but it would be awfully nice to at least walk without hurting for a change. His mental scars were enough to keep him from forgetting.

There were very few aspects of his old life that were even remotely attractive. He just didn't know how to even begin again. Mostly he was afraid of failing. It was almost as if he was a child again, going through life with hopes and dreams that he feared wouldn't happen. What if nothing he did could ever make him happy again? And this thing with Elena scared him the most.

She'd always been tough on the outside. But once he'd snuck inside, her heart was a gooey, warm mess that he'd once loved getting lost in. Something told him behind her strong exterior, she was still that way. The minute he started to open himself up to her again she'd be all in. And that was dangerous, because _he_ was dangerous. She was a healer and he was a killer. Duty or not, people were dead because of him.

And through the anger and fear, he could almost feel something tugging at his heart. Caring about her wasn't the problem. It was himself he didn't give a damn about now. Maybe it was time he started to work on that, too. It had once been so easy to put himself first.

Eventually he'd try to find work. His money would run out, or maybe his madness would get the better of him and he could use the distraction of a schedule. He should probably look into AA programs again because the morning after he'd downed that bottle of whiskey he'd woken up hating himself more than usual. Now he was disappointing more than just himself. The look of sadness in Elena's eyes was his newest nightmare.

His fridge and cabinets were bare aside from the quick trip to the market the day before. It was probably time to get enough groceries to get him through the next week or two, until he tried to find work and settled into some sort of routine. He'd relied on fast food for too long. The only reason he was still somewhat in shape was because he didn't have much of an appetite.

Alaric had forced food down his throat to soak up the alcohol, making him all kinds of crazy foods that tasted like garbage but kept him alive. Then he'd gotten sober and hadn't been able to insult the guy. He was more grateful to Alaric than he could ever admit to the guy's face. But it was time to be a grown up and stop hiding from his problems. And if he ever expected to feel remotely healthy again, he couldn't exist on frozen burgers and fries forever.

The walls of his apartment were bare, too. His mother didn't deserve to be on his walls, and he wasn't sure what had happened to Stefan over the years. And he'd hang that roughed up picture of Elena, but he'd trimmed it down to wallet sized and it would probably scare the shit out of her if she ever saw it. Not that he intended to have her back at his place again. Besides, he kept it with him out of habit. Sometimes it felt like the only way he could tell her his thoughts without hurting her.

His phone buzzed on the table, tugging his attention toward the date. His stomach twisted for a second, falling back four years to a day so gut-wrenching and beautiful at the same time. How could he have forgotten? Kol Mikaelson's birthday…

Surely she remembered, too…

His phone dinged, indicating he'd missed the call and the person had left a voicemail. Taking a breath, he tucked his aching aside for a second and brought his head to the present. A smile formed on his lips when he saw his buddy's face light up the screen and he quickly hit redial.

"Yep, still breathing," he answered.

"That's not funny," Alaric said, but Damon could hear the smile on his lips. "Really though, how are things going for you?"

"Firstly, why are you calling me this early?" He sighed.

"Surprised you called back. Wanted to leave a message and I figured it didn't matter what time I called. Didn't think you'd answer, to be honest," he paused. "Anyway, I thought of you today. Saw what you wrote in on the calendar and...yeah..."

"Yeah. I...could be better," he cleared his throat, looking at the broken window again. "Thanks. But other than that, I've messed up a few things, gotten a little off track this week...but I want to be here and I want to fix this. And me,"

"I'm glad." Damon sensed his friend's worries easing. "So, have you seen her?"

"A few times," he said slowly. There was no way in hell he was getting out of this one without more of an explanation. If he'd left the progress he'd made in Chicago to go home for a woman, Alaric wouldn't settle for vagueness.

"And?"

"And she's beautiful," he blurted out. "And forgiving and this is harder than I thought it would be. Go ahead with the 'I told you so,' Ric. A little reality check might get my head out of the damn clouds for a while."

"Oh yeah, sounds realllll terrible," he smirked.

"She invited me to her Mom's for Thanksgiving," he continued.

"Oh boy," he cut him off to prevent him from having to go into the details all over again.

"So you understand what I mean when I say I don't know if I can do that," he said honestly. "The littlest memories set me off. What if I go into one of my zones and can't separate past and present? I'm afraid of messing up and I can't stand scaring her. The last thing I need to do is embarrass her in front of her family."

"So you'd rather eat a microwavable turkey sandwich and some cranberry sauce out of the can instead of sitting in a warm house next to a woman who it seems still wants the best for you, despite what happened two years ago," It was a statement, not a question.

"Well when you put it like that….maybe," he sighed.

"I gotta say this. Man, that's damn stupid," Alaric frowned. "You can't assume the worst all the time. That's your issue…"

"I don't want to take advantage of her feelings. She's with that guy now…the one who…you know…on Thanksgiving. As messed up as I am right now, I really don't care to see her all over him. I don't think I can handle seeing her with someone else."

"Awkward," Alaric admitted. "But as shitty as it is, it's making you feel something," he reasoned. "And jealousy sucks, but it's better than feeling nothing at all. At least you know your heart's still beating, right?"

Damon almost smiled; his buddy had a point. "At any rate, things are really complicated right now and she's already seen me worse than I wanted. I can't let it happen again,"

"What other option is there?" Alaric asked seriously. "You either figure out how to be around her or you walk away again, and this time never look back. Maybe it's time you really let her go…"

He stopped breathing for a moment and thought about a life without her. Sure, he'd tried once before, but he hadn't honestly figured on never seeing her again. He just hadn't figured on her being so warm when he finally did. Her forgiveness and acceptance humbled him, much as her affection for an arrogant, lonely soldier had so many years ago.

"Since the moment you sent her away you haven't stopped thinking about her. It's all Elena all the time, Damon. Call me bitter because I lost the woman I loved over a stupid mistake, but it's time you start helping yourself before you can figure out what the two of you are supposed to be. You can't love someone if you don't love yourself. It will only end badly,"

He stayed silent on the other end of the phone, staring again into the blackness of his coffee mug. That was the thing about civilians. Everyone was always trying to tell him to fix himself, get himself in order. But they had no clue what it was like; and he hadn't the faintest idea of how or where to start. That's why he'd decided it was just easier to begin again, start fresh. It was just hard to look at Elena and not remember what they'd once been. Sure, his senses were far duller than they'd once been, but sometimes when she looked at him with tears in her eyes, he felt the warmth flooding back into him.

"And we're back to square one," he said with a bitter smile.

"I'm not trying to discourage you. If you think you can blend Elena into this new life you want, go for it." Alaric managed. "I'm just looking out for you."

"I know," He'd never be able to thank Alaric enough for all he'd done to help him. And while he'd never felt comfortable going into feelings or what was actually haunting him, the man had been a rock. He'd never pushed him in any other direction than up. "Thanks, man."

He pushed the end key and settled back against his chair and crossed his arms. Starting over meant he didn't have to live up to the man he'd once been. And it would've lightened the load a bit, except there were parts of that guy he still liked. He'd been funny and easy going. God, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd really laughed.

He'd been bold and daring. He hadn't been afraid to try anything, including something new like actually falling in love. Maybe his courage had been what drew her to him to start. Tough and sassy herself, he'd pushed all the right buttons and dig himself under her skin in all the best ways. And he'd been crazy to question her feelings; the way she looked at him said more than any well thought out declaration of love ever could. She still looked at him like that…and that should scare him far worse than it did. It would be too easy to put his weight on her shoulders but it wouldn't be fair.

He needed to find a balance, some way to get a jumpstart on this refresh. He'd spent too long enjoying the fact that his injuries helped him remember. It wasn't healthy to think that way. And he had to admit, he wasn't comfortable. He was insecure about the chair, worrying Elena would only pity him and not see him for the strong man she'd once relied upon for comfort. But the foot he'd gotten almost made it worse. He'd been so swift on his feet; she'd once told him he walked like he was dancing. He struggled to make eye contact with her now as he hobbled everywhere because he was embarrassed. He needed to purge the masochistic theories about owning up to his pain and loving it and find a better way moving forward.

He spun his phone on the table, watching the picture of her on his screen go in circles before he huffed and picked it up to bring up a text field.

**About the foot**_**…**_he started. **When can we start? **He pressed the send key and waited.

* * *

**Present Day, Matt's house, Saturday Morning…**

** "**Damon's back…"

"How long?" He couldn't keep the shift in emotion out of his voice. The tidal wave of feelings was on its way, but it was hard to tell which part would strike first. Anger, jealousy and bitterness all had a place; but no one would believe him for a second if he said he was shocked.

When she didn't answer right away, he repeated himself. "How _long_, Elena?"

"A few weeks," she said honestly, and the guilt fluttered from her stomach to her chest, seeking freedom. "I know how this must seem…"

"The distractions," he breathed through the hurt flaring in his chest. "You've been a mess for weeks. You've been seeing him. You were with him yesterday morning…and when you left in the middle of the night…" he stated, moving from the squatting position he'd been in before the toilet back to sit down. He pressed his bare back against the cool shower door and stared at her at a complete loss for words. When she didn't deny it, he closed his eyes. "I thought it was maybe just the stress but this makes perfect sense."

"Nothing happened," she confirmed, sniffling. Her face was flushed but her skin was covered with gooseflesh as the steam from the shower had since gone. "I care about you, Matt," she said softly. "I don't want to lie to you. I just didn't know how to tell you,"

"What? That your ex is home?" He sighed. "That kind of thing isn't a big deal unless you still care about the guy. My ex lives down the street, Elena, and you don't see me acting this way. But you've hid Damon from me for how long?" He frowned when she cringed. He'd raised his voice, which was something he rarely did around her. Giving it another moment, he looked her over with cautious eyes, as if he was afraid to get even more hurt. "You look sick to your stomach, Elena…"

"I am!" Her voice was scratchy. He saw her flinch and quickly apologized. "Because this is happening all wrong!"

She hadn't meant to turn this into an argument, but she'd never figured it was going to be a conversation filled with smiles and laughter. He could hardly be angry with her for Damon's return. But he had every right to feel betrayed that she'd been sneaking around behind his back, even _if_ she hadn't done anything. "This isn't what you think. I wouldn't cheat on you….I care about you…" she shook her head.

"You're still in love with him." His voice had settled and he sounded like he'd known all along that his time was going to run out. She frowned and he sent her a small, heartbreaking smile that made her feel even worse.

"I can't even begin to think about that," she said honestly. Her stomach twisted with guilt. If only she and Matt were just friends. This would be so much easier if he didn't look at her as if she was the rest of his life.

"It's not a secret, Elena. You've always loved him. Even when he pissed you off and you came barging though my front door. And you and me...you've never loved me back, have you? I mean you've never said it so I can't really call you a liar…"

"Matty, please," She swallowed. "We don't have to do it like this. I don't want to say goodbye to you. I don't want it to be one or the other. I shouldn't have to choose between two friends,"

"Friends," he repeated. "You know, right now I think I'm a little too…shocked to be angry," he ran his hands through his hair. "But something's going to kick in. When I realize you're really gone. Because you are, aren't you? I saw your duffel full of clothes out there. You don't even want to try with me anymore…"

"That's just it, Matt," she said sadly. "When it comes to relationships, you shouldn't _have_ to try…"

Oh, she'd never wanted to pair these pieces of information together. Her reluctance with Matt and Damon being back were unrelated, really. It had felt forced before Damon showed up, and had heightened when she'd let her mind wander. One day she would've woken up and done it anyway; it just seemed worse that it looked hand in hand with Damon's reappearance.

"Damon and I are friends. Just friends," She stared at him. "I would never cheat on you. But I need to be completely honest with you. I wish I loved you the way I should. You're wonderful,"

"Spare me the 'it's not you, it's me' speech, please. I can take it," he pled.

"Well it's true. You're amazing and have your head on straight. And I don't," she eyed her medication.

He frowned. It was starting to sink in. He wasn't perfect at all. He was just too nervous to say or do the wrong things. He'd never admit how much of a jealous idiot he'd been about Damon, even when he'd been away at war or just in Chicago. No matter what he did or how hard he tried, she'd never, ever look at him the way she did Damon.

He'd waited for her for years. And he'd looked the fool, too, as he'd shown up starry eyed at her childhood house when she'd come home on leave, hoping one day he'd find her eyes sparkling back. And then she'd walked through the door holding Damon Salvatore's hand the night before Thanksgiving and he'd nearly flat-lined. A part of him had died that night. He should've known better than to think he'd ever really get to keep her.

Damn Damon Salvatore. Before she'd met him she'd been fine. She hadn't needed medication until he'd been deployed. Now she filled her prescription on a regular basis and depended on chemicals to fix what he'd screwed up. Yeah, he was bitter about it, because when the guy actually had the chance to make good on a promise, he'd left her cold and broken, miles from home. And from the red rims around her eyes, he guessed she'd cried the entire flight home.

"I wish you'd believe in yourself a little more, Elena. You don't need him. You think you do…but you don't…" he smiled sadly. "You're braver than this…" He looked at her medicine on the counter.

"No, I'm not," she shook her head. "I used to be," a tear slid down her face again. "But this is real, Matt. I know you don't want it to be, but it is. And I hate that you think less of me for it,"

"I don't want this for you," he stood up and palmed her prescription bottle before slamming it back down on the counter. "And now that he's back it can only get worse…"

"What? You think my medication is a crutch?" She stood up and tugged the towel more tightly around her, concealing her naked form. "I know you've never believed it and you're angry right now, but why don't you go ahead and call me crazy while you're at it!"

He sighed, standing up and pushing a strand of hair out of her face. "I'm sorry, okay? I don't want to argue. But you've got to understand that this is all coming at me at six thirty in the morning on a day I'd planned to spend relaxing with you. I went from thinking I'd done something wrong to being reminded it doesn't matter what I do if he's around,"

"That isn't true," she shook her head. "It was wrong of me to keep this from you, but can you see why I did? I hate this between us," suggesting the tension, "I've done a lot of things to hurt you, Matty. Things I can't go back and change…"

His thoughts slammed to a halt, freezing on one memory in particular. They were 18 and she'd just enlisted. She'd looked him in the eyes, said she was prepared to do whatever it took to serve her country, including dying. And it had just seemed like a heat of the moment decision between them back then, but now it was far clearer; she'd been leading him on for years. It was no wonder he'd stuck around so long. She hadn't had the heart to tell him she still felt like they'd made a mistake.

"So you never felt a thing?" He repeated. "Ever?"

"I did," she whispered. "Just not the right things…" she said sadly.

"Not even before him?" He frowned and she knew just what he was getting at.

"We were young and scared," She swallowed. "And if I'd actually thought it through beforehand, I'd have seen the repercussions it would have later. But I wasn't so sure I'd _have_ a later…"

"You wish it had been him," he said flatly, but wished he could take the words back as soon as they'd left his lips. She wasn't a good liar and if he let that statement linger for too long it was going to be bad either way. Her silence would be just as deafening as an admission. "Nevermind. Don't answer that," he frowned. "I just need you to know something."

She waited for a heartbreaking statement that was sure to send her on an even bigger guilt trip. But she'd made her bed and now it was time she lie in it…or _not_ lie in it. "I'm sorry…"

"It might've just been sex to you. You might've just done it to get it over with back then, but it meant something to me. I lost my virginity to a woman I loved and I don't regret it. But I'm not stupid you know. You were out of that bed faster than made sense. You couldn't look me in the eye for days afterward. I should've taken a clue but I guess I just didn't want to," he admitted. "I always thought eventually it would just be us. And then when you came home from Chicago…" he paused. "I took advantage of your vulnerability but I didn't mean to. I hated to see you that way. And now I'm sad and angry and probably going to regret everything I say…but hell, Elena…"

She watched the change in his gaze again. It was as if he'd suddenly realized his part in it all. She'd always been too afraid of hurting his feelings, but she hadn't been the only one doing the using. He'd probably always love her, but he was thirty years old and it was time to face the truth; Elena Gilbert had never loved him as more than a friend and she never would. And now that it was out in the open, a one-sided relationship was too much to bear.

Her eyes caught on her phone on the sink as it vibrated. She gave Matt a careful glance before pulling it onto her lap. **About the foot...When can we start? **He didn't need to ask to know who the text had come from.

He wanted the best for her, but that didn't mean he wanted her to waltz off to Damon. He was still plenty hurt and jealous about that one, but he'd already said things he regretted that night. And as it would turn out, it really wasn't his business anymore. If she loved the guy, she'd always love the guy. He just didn't really want to be around to see it all unfold.

"I understand," she shook her head. "You've been amazing. I wish things were different for us,"

"Don't lie," he pleaded with a sad smile. "You're a horrible liar. You can't force yourself to feel something you don't and it's time I stop expecting you to and pretending I don't notice the way you distance yourself from me."

"So what's this going to do to us?" She asked, shaken. "I don't want to lose you but I can't ask you to go on as if this never happened. We have a lot of history,"

"I couldn't if I tried," he said softly. "And as for our practice, we'll be fine," he nodded. "We're professionals. We can have offices across the hall from one another without it getting weird, right?"

He heart sank. She hadn't expected him to pull her into a hug and forgive her on the spot, but she selfishly wished he'd want to keep her around as more than just a business partner. "Okay." She didn't dare push it. He was already confused as hell and chances were his opinion on them would change several times between that morning and the next day. Someone as sweet and loving as Matt didn't just get over something so easily. Somehow she'd let that be an excuse for her to stay quiet for too long. Time didn't matter; it just wasn't going to work.

"And as for us," she said again.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I can't tell you how I'll feel even later today let alone when this all sinks in. I'm not going to lie. The thought of you with him makes me angry. And I don't know who I'm the angriest with…him for being _him_…you for not loving me back…or myself for not accepting it." He stood up and grabbed the clothes she'd set out on the counter before he turned the knob of the door and gave her some privacy.

Her chest was heavy as she slid her clothes on. She'd expected some surge of relief from telling him, but instead the guilt was still buried deep. He was right; it would take more than just an hour to settle down.

She opened the door to see him sitting on the bed, staring at the door as if he wished he'd just imagined the last hour. "I need you to know something," she sat down next to him and took his hand. "I've always had a hard time with feelings. I make wrong choices on the outside sometimes, but inside everything is magnified," she waited for him to look into his eyes before she continued. "And I'm sorry for hurting you. But this thing between us isn't ending just because Damon's home. I just chose the wrong time to realize and it hurts too much to do this anymore. I hope you understand but I get it if you don't,"

"No, I get it," he said quickly. "I just don't want to," he dropped her hand and walked to the other side of the room. "And I'm supposed to be the good man and tell you best of luck and I hope you get what you want…but I just can't right now," he admitted. "So much for amazing, huh?"

She rose and took her duffel bag from the ground. Her stomach swirled with disappointment and sickness. "I…invited him to Thanksgiving. I haven't told Mom yet…I needed you to know first. If you don't want to come anymore I understand,"

Knives stabbed his heart at the way Damon so easily slid back into her world. Life was cruel, really, and nice guys finish last.

"We'll see," he frowned. "I might just make the trip out to Maine myself. Maybe the alone time would do me some good," he shrugged. "But don't worry. I'll give your Mom enough notice. I know it's tradition…but maybe I'm just not a part of it anymore."

Elena sighed. No matter what she did or said things had changed. There was no going back and though that seemed like a rough thing at the time, in the long run it was better. She needed to end it with Matt; if Damon hadn't come home she would've done it eventually. But he'd jumpstarted her now, and eventually she'd be ready to think about why.

"Take some time off from the clinic," he suggested. "You're tired," he touched her cheek out of habit. "And you need to figure some stuff out. I don't want to make this worse," he ran a hand through his hair. Despite his anger, he was still concerned for her wellbeing.

She nodded. She knew better than to try to tell him she was fine. Clearly she wasn't. Obviously she needed to take a step back and breathe a bit By herself. For herself,…for the first time in a long time. And if Damon wanted to be someone new, she needed to learn how to let him.

"Thank you," she whispered, pressing a kiss on his cheek. "I was so afraid to tell you. And as much as this sucks right now, I'm glad that I did. We're going to be okay,"

"Sure," he said in a low voice that wasn't so convincing. "Call me if you need me," He let his fingers play with the wet tips of her hair and felt something kick inside his chest. She'd be frozen the second she stepped outside, but he knew better than to baby her. Fragile as she was sometimes, she was still so headstrong.

And with a sad smile she zipped her duffel as he opened his door. "I'm sure I forgot something,"

"I'll bring it to the clinic," he reassured her. "Take care of yourself."

It sounded like a forever goodbye...and maybe it was. Was he saying goodbye to the woman he'd loved for years? Would she turn into nothing more than the other half of his clinic? It was still too early to tell.

* * *

Outside his apartment building Elena pulled out her phone. Her chest ached from the sobs that hadn't escaped. How foolish did she feel walking out of a breakup with Matt only to text Damon seconds later? But it didn't matter. No one had the right to judge her. It wasn't like she was running over to him to hop in his bed and pretend nothing had ever happened.

**Whenever you want…**she entered in the text field. **I have a few days off from work. **

She shivered in the cold air and wrapped her scarf around her more tightly. When the WALK sign lit up, she crossed to get into her car. Usually hours passed between texts, but this time he answered as she unlocked her door.

**Lena…**she read the words and knew something big was about to come. She'd been spinning with so many emotions that morning…what was one more?

….**Do you know what today is? **Scooting her gaze up to the top of her phone, her heart slammed in her chest as it all began to process. Of course she knew…

**Yes**_**…**_**are you going?**She managed to text back. She'd thought about it every year since, but now that he was back, it was even worse.

**I should. **He responded. Why weren't they just talking on the phone? It would be easier…but if texting was what he wanted to do, she was okay with that. She probably sounded too shaky anyway.

**Mind if I come, too? **She hit send quickly before she could change her mind.

**Okay. **She smiled. He wouldn't have brought it up if he didn't want her to go with him. She crossed her fingers for another good Damon day, but worried the memories of the day could only lead to sadness and awkwardness. **At noon. Meet me there. We can talk about the foot…**

**I told him. **She typed with a sigh. She waited a few moments but he said nothing back. Maybe her declaration had gone too far. Maybe he'd change his mind and when she showed up at noon he wouldn't be there...** Sure,** **noon_._ **She settled on.

This day in particular meant different things to each of them. He was already so sad and broken; she worried what something like this would do to him. And she was sad, too. When she'd agreed to go out that night four years ago she hadn't expected it to end the way it had.

And as horrifying as it had been, something good had come out of it too. She'd finally managed to dig through the layers of ice around her 26-year-old heart and realize it actually did beat for reasons other than duty.


	6. Proud of You

**A/N: Sorry for the delay! This chapter features one, long flashback smack dab in the center of the present. I threw in a line break or two during the flashback to indicate a gap in time. It'll be clear when it picks up in present time, as I've labeled it as so. **

** I chose "Proud of You" by 10 Years. I think in a way it fits both of them at different points of time in their lives. **

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

**Through The Ghost**

**Chapter 5: Proud of You**

**Present Day**

"It's just me," Elena said gently as she found Damon where they'd agreed to meet at noon. He sat with his back against a wide trunk of a tree, and when he looked up to greet her, his cheeks were windburned and his eyes were deep and tragic. "Have you been here very long?"

"No. Ten minutes or so. I've been sitting here thinking about how weird this all is." he shifted over slightly when she motioned to sit down next to him. The nearly frozen ground bit into her legs and she drew them up against her chest, wrapping her arms around them to stay warm. "I'm glad you're here. It was too quiet."

She understood; her father had been afraid of the quiet for awhile after he'd come home, too. She imagined Damon was just as nervous and jumpy when things got too calm. But some things were best left alone, so she quickly shifted the conversation.

"I've come here every year. I came for both of us when you couldn't," she admitted cautiously. "Even when you were in Chicago,"

She watched him tense and reached her hand out on his knee to ease him. "That wasn't a dig, okay? It's quite the opposite, actually." It was a big enough deal that they were there together now. It wouldn't be right to start in on the instability of their relationship. "No matter what was going on with us...or wasn't," she paused. "I still wanted to do this. I needed to. To remember."

"You're better than I am," his eyes were dark. "Always have been, I think. This isn't the first opportunity I've had to come here, but it is the first time I have. And it's not for the reasons you'd think. It hurt a lot at first...and then I just went numb. To everything."

It didn't surprise her.

"That's selfish, I know. Sometimes I lost track of the time over there...in Iraq. You'd think I'd be counting the days but after awhile, they just started blending. Somehow, though, I always remembered this day. And I wanted to be angry about it, but all I could think was how lucky he was. How I wished I could've been him that night. Just...disappear. You know, it would've been so easy. There were so many ways I could've stopped hurting."

"Damon," she felt tears threatening but held them in. She snuck her arm up under his and pulled herself against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "You don't mean that."

"You'd rather I lie?" He asked seriously. "This is why I can't...don't...talk to people about this stuff. I sound crazy. I end up feeling worse..." He shook his head and shrugged to get her head to move away but she tightened her hold, instead and looked up into his eyes. And she stared until she saw a flicker of something softer and his muscles relaxed, letting her stay.

"I'm not going anywhere Damon, so don't even try. You can't push me away. Not this time," she said after a moment.

And in the silence she was swept away to that very day, four years ago, when they'd been given a small taste of heaven just before the world came crashing down. She'd learned how much she needed him that day, and she hadn't stopped since.

* * *

** 2008**

"You are not bailing on me right now," Elena grabbed Caroline's wrist and stared at her with desperation. "Tell me you're kidding."

"Trust me when I say I'd much rather be out celebrating a birthday with you than doing what I have to do," she smiled sadly and pulled her studded earrings out. She'd been all ready to go out with the three of them for a night of fun. "But when Mom calls and tells me Dad's having another one of his episodes…well, I wouldn't be much fun anyway. I'd only be thinking of him. I'm sorry, Elena." In a moment she was 3 inches shorter, standing flat footed next to her heels.

Elena sighed and ran and ran her fingers through her hair. She wasn't angry with Caroline; of course things came up. It wasn't as if she'd planned it all along. That didn't change the fact that she was now left defenseless. It was 6:45 p.m. and soon Damon would appear at her door ready to go out for night of promised fun; canceling wasn't an option.

She wasn't afraid of him. If anything she was more afraid of herself. There was no telling what a few drinks and alone time with Damon Salvatore would do to her. She could try to seem as disinterested as possible and he still wouldn't believe it. She always managed to give him a front row ticket to her vulnerability.

And she was torn in two about the whole thing; things got awkward anytime he tried to reach out to her long-lost sensitive side. But if there was one person on base...once person other than her family, even, who could sense her feelings without her coming right out and admitting them, it was a good thing.

The more she thought about it Damon really _was _her friend...a devastatingly handsome friend with a cocky attitude and smile that weakened her knees a little more each time she saw him. That was the glitch. She'd never meant to want him.

"You're going to be fine," Caroline reassured her with a cutesy smile. "Think of it as an opportunity," she watched the color rise in her friend's face. "Or set him straight and tell him off. But I guarantee you option number one would be a much better choice…especially with a man like Damon,"

Caroline smiled as her friend's eyebrows shot up quickly. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"See," she patted Elena's cheek softly, "You've already got the territorial girlfriend thing down perfectly. Don't even try and deny it. Getting you with me for a night out on the town is like pulling teeth. You're not impulsive; I know better than to spring things on you." she smiled . "That's exactly how I know this is a big deal to you. He asks you the same day, throws off your whole elaborate night of reading and wine and pajamas and who knows what else, yet here you are..." she gestured toward her. "See what I mean?"

Elena swallowed and shook her head, ready to speak again when the doorbell rang. "Go on, don't make him worry. I'll let myself out and lock up," she gave her one more slanted smile as she turned the corner to head to the bathroom.

With a breath and the hope that the pink had left her cheeks, Elena opened the door. He stood on her porch in a thin leather jacket and charcoal dress pants. His bright smile kicked up the tiny fluttering in her stomach that all but confirmed her fears. She could tell herself over and over again that she felt nothing but it would never work. Not this time. Not with him.

"Come in, I guess," she said as she caught the scent of cologne in the wind. "I just need to grab my coat and we can go,"

"So where's blondie?" He looked around the room. "Don't tell me she's still getting ready," his eyes caught on the light under the closed bathroom door.

"Something came up. It's just me," she slid her arms into her black coat and fastened the silver buttons. When she looked up, his eyes startled her. Measuring the surprise in them, she asked, "What? Is that a problem?"

"No. I'm just surprised you're still coming," she hit the lights in the living room and followed him out the door into the chilly November air.

"Please don't make a big deal out of it," she said softly, her eyes on her feet as she treaded through the snow and ice carefully in her flats. "Let's just go, okay?"

In all honesty, it felt good to have plans. While she enjoyed spending time with Caroline, her friend was a constant, unintentional reminder of how grumpy she'd become over the years. Caroline somehow managed to be fun, beautiful and dedicated to her job, but when it came right down to it, didn't take life too seriously. Unlike Elena, Caroline actually had a personal life.

Maybe it was time she learned to have one, too.

"I'm glad. I didn't dress up for this guy," he tipped his head to the side toward his friend in the car and grinned teasingly. Damon opened one of the back doors of the car for her to slide onto the leather seat. The car was warm and smelled new and expensive.

To her surprise, instead of hopping in the empty passenger seat in front of her, Damon walked around to the other side of the car and got in beside her. From the driver's seat Kol sent her a small wave.

"Hey," he smiled at her then shifted his eyes toward Damon and his grin grew.

"Happy Birthday," she responded sincerely as he restarted the engine. Apparently Damon had told him to kill it, probably figuring she'd try to get out of the night somehow.

"So what's with the empty seat?" She asked.

"It would be rude of me to sit in the front and leave you back here," Damon looked at her as if to say _duh_. "And I can't have my boy riding around with you in the passenger seat," he frowned as if it made perfect sense and she was crazy not to see it. "Single guy and all…he has a reputation to uphold."

"Don't listen to him," Kol eyed her in the rearview mirror. "This guy will say anything to get out of admitting feelings," he warned her. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

"I'm right here, you know," he leaned forward in his seat and slapped his friend on his shoulder. And for reasons she couldn't understand, something about their smiles eased her. She leaned back into the seat and listened as their words became but background noise to the beautiful sound of their laughter as if it was the first time she'd heard it….as if she were a fly on the wall, seeing the closeness and brotherhood that existed between them that she'd never let herself see. She'd thrown herself into the military in almost every way but that. When this was all said and done, she wouldn't walk away with friends for life or people that felt like family. It was a damn shame, really. And it was absolutely her doing. Damon had been so wrong when he'd told her no one cared if he lived or died. Kol did. _She_ did.

After a moment Damon settled back against his seat and put his hands on the thin grey fabric of his pants. He looked different out of uniform. His smile was wide and dangerous to a woman like her, who over the course of the last few weeks had needed to remind herself their places in life. They may no longer be patient and therapist, but she had no business in the backseat of his friend's car dressed like this…and even _less_ business feeling happy when his warm hand slipped into hers as they walked into the restaurant. It was these wordless exchanges she'd started to adore, crave even. With Damon she felt warm, safe in a way she hadn't realized she needed until she'd met him.

Her stomach dropped as she took in the atmosphere of the restaurant. She'd heard Abel's was fancy, but hadn't ever had a reason to go inside. It was dimly lit and looked like a place for lovers, not somewhere to celebrate a friend's twenty-third birthday. She felt his hand tighten on hers, giving it a little squeeze to either reassure her or silently beg her to not change her mind. And she stayed with him, physically and mentally.

A quick scan of the other diners made it hard not to feel small. Women were in frilly scarves and high heels with fire engine red lipstick and hair done up in curls that didn't dare stray out of place. Their men looked at them with hungry eyes, as if the meal was but a formality. She wondered just how many of them were going home together. She was willing to bet none of those women had dog tags hanging between their breasts or went to bed alone very often.

Their cheeks were a healthy pink and stretched wide, probably from fake laughter. These were exactly the type of women she'd stopped wanting to be when she'd turned a sensible age, and yet, the feeling in the pit of her stomach told her she envied them now. Playing a part or not, they looked like they knew what they wanted. And the men by their sides were probably doctors, lawyers, men in safe, _sane_ positions that didn't require their wives or girlfriends to worry about them day in and day out.

She felt like a fish out of water as the hostess led them past tables and booths of normal couples. She'd be naïve to think they didn't have problems. Maybe they weren't the _same_ kind of problems someone in her position had, but it wasn't really fair to compare.

The men at the table were handsome but stuffy. They looked as if they hadn't laughed long and hard since they were children. Men such as these made it easy to remember why it had been so easy to stay focused on work and not get distracted. They looked safe but unexciting. They were probably boring the hell out of their dates with stories of their latest business trip or conference call.

And they probably thought they were hot shit, but they were nowhere near as intimidating as the man holding her hand, especially when he was focused solely on her. Feeling nerves rise into her chest, she took a deep breath and stopped in front of the table.

"I'm underdressed," she said with a frown after the hostess walked away. Caroline was right; she should've worn a dress. She probably looked like a child playing dress up in the awkward skirt she was wearing. The goal had been to dress appropriately, and the dresses Caroline presented her with were nothing short of provocative. She'd settled for halfway and it had come to this.

He shook his head and smiled. "You look nice." It wasn't a dismissal or a way to smooth out a bad situation. His eyes danced genuinely, making it all too easy to believe he meant it.

"Well," Kol said, snapping the tension that was building by the minute before him. "I think I'm going to hit the bathroom and the bar. You want anything?"

"Sit your ass down, Kol," Damon said. "They'll bring us the wine."

"Wine? Lame," he laughed. "And I see plenty of people at the bar," he tipped his head. "But if you two want to play pretend, go ahead," he winked at Damon. "It's my birthday. I'm single and I'm not about to find a woman sitting a romantic table with you two and a bottle of overpriced Merlot."

Elena swallowed and looked down at her hands fidgeting on the back of the chair before her. Kol had always seemed like the responsible one. Yeah, they knew how to have a good time, but she hadn't figured on him ditching them right out of the gate. "I thought you said Kol liked this place," she said without looking up at Damon. "Why else would you bother?"

"Pay no attention to that guy," he waved his hand and stepped around to pull out her chair. "He just likes making a bigger deal out of things than necessary." His hand slid onto hers to still her fidgeting fingers and she took a sharp breath.

"Don't, okay?" She turned slightly to look over her shoulder, stopping when she saw his face just inches from hers. "Don't…" she repeated.

"Don't what?" He smiled as his the breath from his words danced on her cheek and sent a visible shiver through her. "I'm just being nice," he shrugged and held his hands up in front of him with a smirk before he backed away. "Relax,"

A small breath left her lips as she lowered herself into the stiff chair, watching him sit down across from her. She tried her best to put on her poker face and act like she wasn't affected, but it was no use. Every time she looked at him, he was staring right back, making her nerves bounce and her stomach tangle in knots she'd always heard about but never believed in. Now it was confirmed; he definitely did something to her insides.

She stared at her menu and pretended to decide what to order. It was a shame they'd be spending so damn much money on food when she was too nauseous to eat. Everything sounded delicious.

"Will it just be the two of you dining tonight?" A tall, thin black haired woman with startling green eyes said at the end of their table, making Elena jump.

"I suppose so," he said, sending Elena an amused smile before catching the waitresses gaze. She was staring back at him with not-so-subtle sex eyes. Yes, Damon Salvatore was sex-eye worthy, if you were that kind of woman, of course. Which she wasn't. So it was no problem, really…

Only when someone else tried to do it to him.

"Have you looked over the wine list?" She asked in a tone that was overly raspy and disgusting. "There are several good choices tonight."

It nearly killed her to see him use that smirk, which was slowly becoming her favorite thing in the world, on another woman. The guy was more of a pitcher of domestic beer type, but he was a womanizer and charming as hell. He knew how to play his cards, make everything believable. Hell, even _she_ believed him without much thought these days. Something told her she could trust him.

"What's _your_ favorite?," he asked the raven haired woman and Elena watched her cheeks flush. Feeling tense, she set her water glass down a little too harshly, crashing into the wine list and knocking Damon's water over. Cold water and ice covered the white cloth. His attention shot back to her immediately, and he reached across the table to take her hand. "Something red and sweet," he said to the waitress, his eyes never leaving Elena's.

When they were again alone, Damon slid his warm fingers over her knuckles, doing his best to still the trembling. "You're shaking," he frowned. "Is something wrong?"

Yes. Of course there was. She'd just made a mess of their table in a restaurant where it was considered rude to even sneeze. And she was dressed like a child. And she was jealous as hell that he'd flirted with someone while he was supposed to be out with her...even if it _wasn't_ a date. She'd been so caught up in the idea of the night that she'd nearly forgotten how many female options he had.

"I'm fine. It was an accident," she tried. No how matter how many sips of water she took, her mouth stayed cottony. And when she dared to look back up at him, honesty tumbled out of her mouth. "No. You know what? I'm not fine. This place is stuffy and ridiculous. I feel like I'll get kicked out if I cough, for God's sake. And worst of all, you're flirting with the staff! What are we even doing here?"

"Taking a break from the real world," he said, looking at their hands. "Trying out theirs. It's actually kind of lame, isn't it?" He said, smiling, and she pulled her hand out of the heat of his. "Am I doing something wrong?"

"Yes," she whispered and leaned back into her chair, crossing her legs under the table and her arms across her chest before realizing she looked rude. She arched an eyebrow. "You lied to me,"

He couldn't get his response out before the waitress returned and set two wine glasses down in front of them, pouring the red liquid in slowly. "Thank you," he said to her as she set the bottle down on the table and lingered a little too long. "We'll need a minute, if you don't mind."

"Sure," she batted her long eyelashes and turned to tend to a neighboring table where she'd probably end up flirting with someone else's man.

Elena swirled her wine and sipped it slowly, savoring the taste and the opportunity for silence. She needed a minute to get herself back under control before her jealousy became obvious.

"If you don't want to be here tonight, Elena, you _can_ leave. If you remember, I even said I'd take you home and apologize. We'd have to take a cab, of course, or beg Kol to let us drive his new car...but I would, if it came to that, because I promised you. I keep my promises."

He waited for her to take him up on his offer, but the words never came. After a few minutes of staring at the menu, he took his first sip of wine and smiled.

"Okay, she's obnoxious but has good taste in wine," Elena admitted. "This stuff tastes pricey," her eyes floated to the label on the bottle and read 1985. "Hey, the wine is as old as you," she pointed out and he fell backward comfortably in his seat, happy that she had seemingly dodged the invitation to exit.

"If that's some kind of way to point out that you're older than I am, I already know. I saw the spelling bee date you know," he smiled. "Not threatened _or_ intimidated."

They managed to order dishes listed as complimentary to the wine…beef of some variety and ate with not too many awkward silences. There was no sign of Kol and before they knew it, their bottle of wine was empty and Damon's cheeks were flushed with life.

"Look, the natives _dance_," he gestured to a few stiff couples on a dance floor in the corner, then wiggled his eyebrows at her. "

"Speaking of," Elena jumped as a hand pressed on her shoulder. Kol stood next to her, his blood alcohol level practically visible in his charming eyes. "How about one for the birthday boy?"

"The very intoxicated birthday boy," Damon mumbled. "And you think I'm the bad influence," he winked at Elena.

"Come on, Elena," Kol offered her his right hand and she reluctantly took it, stepping across the room to a small, nearly unoccupied dance floor. Keeping her at an acceptable distance, they began an uncoordinated sway that not only made Elena chuckle, but also took her nerves down a few notches.

The spun around lightly for the first song, but he got her talking by the second.

"Having fun tonight?" He asked.

"Actually...yeah," she realized. Unsure of whether it was the food, the wine or the handsome company, she called it a three-way tie. "But I think it's time you slowed down a little, don't you? You're probably good for the rest of the night."

"Nah, I'm good. I'm a fun drunk, and harmless," he assured her.

"I don't approve of this," she teased. "In fact, I look like a hypocrite out with you guys tonight. But since it's your birthday I guess I can make an exception. Where have you been for the last hour, anyway?" She really didn't want to ruin the night for him.

"Cougar hunting," he said a little too loudly, causing Elena to smile and reach her hand up to cover his mouth before he said anything else too inappropriate for their surroundings. Gently, he peeled her fingers away and rested her hand back on his shoulder. "Had a few gin and tonics, couple shots," he listed off casually. "Middle aged women like a spry soldier, you know. They like yours, too."

"Mine?" She asked, unable to hide a small grin as he tried to send her into a twirl.

"Yours. Damon," he confirmed softly. "I mean you guys are something, aren't you?" The Kol Mikaelson she knew didn't blab information. This light, drunk version was full of questions and for once she hoped the alcohol worked in her favor and made him forget how awkward she sounded when she answered.

"Yeah. Friends," she said slowly, "He isn't mine. I'm not his."

"Does he know that?" He asked seriously, slowing their dance to a lazy sway. "Because all I've heard for the last few weeks is 'Elena _this_...Elena _that_...' he explained. "Trust me when I say that's a big deal. It takes a lot for him to get close to someone. He doesn't trust women very easily."

Maybe they were more alike than she'd thought. Time to change the subject and hope he wouldn't notice how sweaty her hand had gotten at the news of Damon's feelings.

"If you're dancing with me to _spy_," she emphasized, "You can tell your buddy..." she dropped his hand and trailed off as he focused on something behind her.

"Two song limit," Damon held up two fingers and reached out toward Elena's free hand. She went willingly, though she'd enjoyed her dance with Kol. It had been enlightening and silly and maybe just what she needed that night.

"You're a good dancer," she said, surprised at how light he was on his feet. Unlike her goofy dance with Kol, their bodies moved together as if they'd danced a thousand times before.

"Didn't figure on it, did you? You probably think I only go to clubs," he suggested with a smile. "Right?"

"Okay, maybe," she admitted. "Where'd you learn?"

"I have my secrets. The point is, I impressed you, so even if the rest of the night is a complete failure, I still get this," his eyes twinkled. At _her_.

Who was she kidding? He'd probably taken at least a dozen women out to a fancy restaurant this year alone, gotten them tipsy on half a bottle of wine, and spun them around the dance floor like they were all alone. But right now she felt like the only woman who'd ever mattered. And as confusing as it was, she _wanted _to be. Desperately.

Not only was he smooth on his feet; he made her a good dancer. There were no doubt people watching them, envying _her_ for being the one in his arms. She wasn't too proud to admit to herself that she felt lucky.

Her skin tingled as his hand slid from her hip to the small of her back, drawing her closer it him. The wine worked it's magic, keeping her hazy and relaxed, unafraid. And the violins were beautiful and more intoxicating than the wine they'd had. Her hand moved from his shoulder up to the back of his neck for a moment, brushing over the short buzz of his hair. The scent of the sweet wine lingered between them and she was hit with the image of tasting it over and over again on his lips. Sweet. Sexy. Delicious. Forbidden.

And that's when she knew she'd lost her mind.

Just a week ago she'd been able to deny her feelings but now, this close to him, feeling free and lighthearted; she could admit it to herself. He meant something to her, but when she tried to place the word, she only came up with Freedom. It made sense, she supposed; and it was an emotion she could handle.

He freed her.

Maybe that turned her on a little. Or maybe it was just him.

She swore they dimmed the lights even lower just for them, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from his long enough to be sure they'd been left alone on the dance floor. The sound of his breathing became louder, closer, hotter. And god! She was throwing out signals that were completely opposite of how she'd planned the night to go, but she couldn't help it.

As the song came to a close, she felt his lips press on the corner of hers and she closed her eyes, willing herself to get her shit together before she lost complete control. Before she knew it, his lips had moved to her ear. Unsure of what was coming next, her body leaned in automatically as he let out the softest _Lena_ she'd ever heard. The _only_ Lena she'd ever heard. No one called her that. Gilbert? Yes. Elena? Of course. Never Lena. Until now.

She'd never dreamed of loving something something so much the first time she heard it. The second after her name left his lips, she felt his thumb tracing her jawline as if setting up her chin for something even better. As if it could be.

A man had never whispered her name in such a low, hungry tone.

Matt had been just a boy when they'd lost their virginity. He'd been too busy with the mechanics to worry about much else. Maybe that's why she hadn't been impressed enough to care much about it since. No one had struck a chord in her until Damon, and at the rate she was going, he'd be striking many more before they parted ways for good.

Because they would eventually. It was inevitable.

But she couldn't think about that right now. The world was a different, warmer place for a moment before she realized what was happening. She snapped out of it when she heard clapping. Confusion clouded her eyes as her hand went up to touch her lips as if they'd been burned.

"Elena!" He called out as she hurried to the table, grabbing her purse and coat with plans to scoot out the door and never look back.

"Don't," she pled, shaking her head. And she felt his eyes on her as she burst through the doors.

She took a deep breath as her lungs hit the cold air and she walked a block away before she let herself think. What the hell had just happened? She'd stormed out like a coward, as if she had a point to prove...as if he'd read her body's responses all wrong. Of course he hadn't. She just hadn't planned on having to figure everything out in one night. Admitting to herself that she was attracted to him was big enough.

She stuffed her hands into her coat pockets, fumbling for her cell phone. She was set to text Caroline and hail a cab when she saw Damon jogging toward her at a steady pace. He pushed the cold air out of his lungs and arrived looking desperate. It wasn't a scene she was used to seeing.

"There you are," he breathed. And dammit, he still looked as sexy as he had inside. Fresh air did nothing to clear her head.

"You didn't have to come after me. I'm fine," she assured him.

"You don't seem okay," he frowned, staring an apology that was sweeter and gentler than she'd have imagined him capable. "Look..." he stepped closer, careful not to get in her personal space. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you."

"We were drunk," she tried but he rolled his eyes in defiance. "Or buzzed, whatever...so you should probably go...or I should," she looked at her phone.

"The wine has nothing to do with this, Elena. My tolerance is through the roof and you held it down just fine." he confirmed, stepping closer to her. "That feeling in there, out here...that's just us," confidence flashed in his pretty eyes. "You know I'm right."

"No," she breathed as he came within a foot of her.

"You're beautiful," he said finally, "But you're stubborn as hell," he laughed. "And I don't know if I love it or if it annoys the hell out of me. But I do know I've never had to worry about this before," he admitted. "I've never had to try this hard."

"That's not helping," she frowned. "Honestly, let's just forget it, okay?"

"You can deny it up and down, back and forth, til you're blue in the face if it comes to that, but 'll never believe you. You felt something in there," He moved closer still, placing his hand on her cheek. "That was barely a kiss...and when it was over, you wanted more, didn't you? I saw it. I saw the look in your eyes..."

"Don't," she said, but she didn't back away when his other hand came up to cradle her face.

"It was the alcohol, huh? That's why you leaned into me? Just like your cheeks are red and you're out of breath because of the cold air? What else? Lay it on me. It'd be so easy to prove you wrong. Right here. Right now..." he whispered in her ear.

"I'm not falling for that," she laughed to keep the upper hand. If he tried to kiss her, she'd have collapsed into him without a fight. "You can't do that again."

"What?" He smirked, leaning in.

"Kiss me," she said clarified, knowing full well he'd say she just gave him permission. Maybe it was an excuse to let him do what they both wanted, but she could at least sound like she was fighting it in case she freaked out.

And as his lips crashed on her for the very first time, her limbs loosened like jello and she wobbled in his strong arms. She kissed him back for just a second before she felt him pull away. He tasted like chocolate and heaven and freedom all rolled into one. He stared at her adoringly, as if she'd just given him the sweetest gift possible.

Maybe she had...but she was about to come to her senses and take it away.

"Damon," his hands were warm on the sides of her neck, making it hard to keep her concentration and remember why she was rejecting him again. "I can't."

"You can't or you won't?" He frowned. "There's a difference, you know."

"Can't," she repeated and backed away from him.

"Bullshit," he said seriously. "No one's in charge of you. You can do whatever you want. You do anyway."

"I don't know what I want," she said seriously. "For the first time, I don't know what I want. And I hate it."

She couldn't believe she'd just admitted it. Her cool, harsh exterior was a defense mechanism. Inside she was terrified of how easy it was for her to feel something for him.

Of course he didn't know why. He had no idea of her history, the death of her father, the constant heartbreak that lived and breathed in her home since he'd died. If caring about someone...loving someone...meant losing herself, she didn't want any part of it. She'd seen what a broken heart had done to her mother. That was something she'd never wanted to feel.

She lived her own life...made her own decisions. She couldn't run the risk of making the wrong choice because of a man. Her situation with Damon put her between a rock and a hard place. She felt so alive when she was with him...she just wasn't sure what they really were.

"Now please let me go," she smiled sadly.

"Elena wait." he tried, out of other ideas. "I'm sorry..."

"Tell Kol Happy Birthday again for me," she requested as she walked toward a cab. She looked back quickly, expecting him to have left, and caught his eyes. "Goodnight, Damon."

"Night," he said with a wince.

When she got back to her apartment she'd gone through the motions. She'd hopped in a hot shower and washed the scent and taste off him, regrettably, so she could keep a clear head. She'd probably dream of him that night and the way his lips had given her just a taste of the possibilities they held.

She pulled on a pair of clean shorts and a tank top and slid under the covers, willing herself to sleep. A new day would bring a fresh start, she thought. She'd made the right decision, she thought. She'd done what she had to.

And she fell asleep believing it. It wasn't until she was startled awake at 3 am that priorities started shifting into place.

* * *

"Shit, Caroline. What the hell are you doing calling me in the middle of the night?"

"I'm sorry to call you so late...I wish I didn't have to..." Elena knew something was up the moment she heard her friend's voice.

"Oh God. Something's wrong. What's the matter? Is it your Dad?"

"No. Dad's fine," she confirmed.

Life changed with just four words.

"There's been an accident,"

"What kind of accident? Who?" She asked, her throat aching. "Who?!" She repeated, panicked. She flew up into a sitting position, her head slamming;The wine that had been her best friend just a few hours ago had become her worst enemy.

"It was Kol's car," she said sadly. "I was at the chow hall half an hour ago, eating with some of the guys because I couldn't sleep. One of them came in a few minutes after I got there and said they saw Kol's new car wrapped around a tree. The police were there but they wouldn't release any information because he wasn't family."

"Did they say how bad it looked?"

"I'm sorry..." she could tell from Elena's voice that this was hitting her hard. Even though she'd gotten the text saying Elena ran away from him when he tried to kiss her, she knew better. Damon Salvatore was something important to Elena, and they didn't need to define it for her to believe it was the truth. "I tried calling some hospitals but I can't find them. They said no one was around except for the police when they got there."

Elena's throat felt hot and miserable as she threw off the covers and rifled through her drawers, searching for jeans and a shirt. She settled on an unflattering, but clean and available black t-shirt and threw her hair up in a messy bun.

"I have to find him," she managed. The sad, scared tone in her voice told Caroline Elena wasn't talking about Kol. It didn't seem real! Just a few hours earlier they were dancing and laughing until she'd lost it and ran like hell. "I don't care how many hospitals I have to go to..."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No. I need to be alone," Caroline heard the broken tenderness in her voice and decided not to push any harder. "Thanks for the call."

She started out strong, hitting two hospitals within the area under the assumption they'd take them to whichever was closest. By 5 a.m., she was on her third hospital, ready to tear her hair out. The memories of their night tortured her; if her head hadn't interfered, she'd have let him kiss her. If she'd stayed just a few minutes longer...things might've been so different.

She could've tried. She _should've_ tried. Just once. What would the harm have been? If she found him now...

"He has to be here," she said bitterly, slamming her hand down on the counter of the desk in the emergency room. "I've been to every hospital on this side of the city. He has to be here..."

"Ma'am, please..." the woman asked politely. "I'm going to need you to calm down."

About to snap, she reigned in her anger and let out a breath. There was no sense in taking her emotions and regret out on an innocent woman just trying to do her job. The fact that she'd gone from 0 to 200 on the emotion scale in a matter of hours frustrated her. There wasn't time to think about what it meant. She just knew it meant something and there was no going back.

She nodded apologetically and turned. And just as she'd told herself to give up, she caught a glimpse of a man pacing back and forth in the hallway. Once her heart started beating again, she let out a gasp.

Damon. Standing. Walking. Breathing. She shot a quick glance toward the desk before trying to push through the doors and run to him.

"Damon?" Elena called out loudly. She saw his head snap in her direction and the air left her lungs.

She'd caught his attention just in time. He walked through the doors with a look of absolute confusion in his eyes, but didn't get a chance to ask her what was going on before she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug. She didn't say a word, just held him tighter, letting her mind go blank except for the feel of him against her.

"You're okay..." were those tears of relief stinging the backs of her eyes? "Why didn't you call me? When I heard I thought you were..." _dead_. _I thought you left me. _

"I didn't realize you'd want me to," he said seriously. "After what happened earlier I thought maybe we needed some time."

She pulled him into another hug and this time his shoulders relaxed. "We do," she nodded against his chest. "But I shouldn't have run away from you like that. Twice," her fists balled up, tugging the t-shirt he'd been wearing under his button up. "It's not that I don't feel anything..." she was afraid to look him in the eyes. "I'm just afraid."

It had taken a tragedy to realize how important he was to her.

Her admission stunned him. He waited just a minute longer for her to reel her words back in, but when she just breathed against his chest, he pressed his hand into the back of her head and threaded his fingers in the hair twisted up messily.

Nearly losing herself in her gratefulness, it took a few moments to register where they were. His eyes were shiny and lost when she looked up at him again. She'd been so thankful that he was okay she hadn't even thought to ask about Kol. Clearly things weren't so good for him.

"I wasn't in the car," Damon said.

"What?" Her heart flooded with relief. He hadn't been hurt at all. At least not physically.

"I went back inside to find him when you left and he was gone. I lost him, Elena. I called his cell phone, texted him...nothing. At first I figured he'd just found someone to hook up with but then I saw his car was gone, too. I don't know when he left. I don't know where he went," he swallowed. "All I know is I got the call around 2:30 from someone who found his phone. They pressed the number one contact and it was me..." His mouth went dry but he continued,

"This is my fault. I wasn't thinking. I should've taken his keys from him the moment he walked over to ask you to dance," he shook his head. "I didn't think he'd be this stupid. Now he's..." he shook his head, ready to say something horribly depressing, when the medical team burst through the doors of Kol's room.

"We're losing him!" They heard someone call out as the doors swung open and closed quickly.

"What?" Damon's voice broke. He stared at Elena panicked, feeling his stomach give out. He rushed toward the door, shoving his way through to get closer to his friend.

"You can't be in here," a nurse rushed them back out into the lobby. "You need to stay out here."

"What's happening?" Damon asked loudly. "He's dying, isn't he? _Isn't_ he?!"

Elena grabbed his hand, hoping to calm him. For a second she felt like she didn't belong there, waiting as a man she barely knew died just a few hundred feet away. Then she looked at the needy, broken shimmer in Damon's eyes and she knew she was exactly where she belonged. With him. Whatever that meant.

"That man is a US soldier," Damon screamed, "And we are, too," he pointed between them. "That means we're family. Now you let us in there. Now," he demanded.

"I'm sorry, I can't," she said sadly. "Just have a seat and take a breath. Please try to remain calm. We don't know anything for sure."

"Yes you do," he smiled bitterly. "He's fucking dying in there. Any idiot can tell," he threw his free arm up in the air. "So how much longer before you are allowed to tell me? Once the time of death is declared? Or should I sit around longer in case he comes back after that like in one of those medical dramas?"

"Damon..." Elena whispered, squeezing his hand. She felt him try to pull away from her but she grabbed him more tightly.

"This is bullshit, Elena!" He yelled. "He's alone..."

She may not have known Kol, but she knew what it felt like to feel helpless, useless, out of control while someone you loved was dying. She remembered the burning in her lungs as she'd watched her childhood home fall to pieces, knowing full well her father was stuck inside.

"It's not fair," he said to her. "It's his birthday! He can't _die_ on his birthday, Elena..." his brow knit together in frustration. Then it happened. She saw a tear slide down his face, tracing a track through his fresh stubble. When she reached out to wipe it away, she knew she couldn't pretend anymore. She cared for him more than she'd ever intended.

They spent the next half an hour sitting silently on the floor in a corner of the ER, their backs pressed against the wall. Elena's head rested on Damon's shoulder and their interlocked hands rested on his leg.

"You don't have to stay," he breathed, but she could tell by the tone of his voice he needed her. He couldn't be alone. And oh, how she so badly wanted to be the one to soothe him.

"Yes. I do," she pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder and he looked at her in surprise. "I want to." Her head fell back on to his strong arm and she closed her eyes, letting herself drift off until the doctor came out into the lobby and dropped the bomb they'd been waiting for.

"I'm sorry," the doctor said regretfully, along with a bunch of other depressing words that really didn't matter. What mattered was the broken man next to her barely holding it together. The doctor's news sank in slowly but hit him hard. When he looked up at her with glassy, shaky eyes she knew there was no going back. Kol was right. He was hers.

"What am I gonna do, Lena?" He asked, the words coming out as a sob. Her name was beautiful from his lips, but she was too heartbroken to enjoy it for very long. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do."

* * *

** Present Day**

"I always admired him. He loved his family," he paused for her to mentally connect the dots. She hadn't known what that meant four years ago but she did now. "He knew what he wanted. He...just made a mistake. One mistake. Probably the only mistake he'd ever made...and it killed him."

"And then there's me. Alive and unwell, making mistakes by the minute and forced to live with them. Sometimes I wonder how I could become an alcoholic or even drink after what happened to him," he continued. "Just look at me, Lena. He has more peace then I'll ever have. He didn't have to see it. Any of it. He didn't have to leave. Come home. Be normal again. His peace came early, easy, and I can envy him for that."

She clearly remembered him saying he didn't want to die. Just a few days ago when she'd been concerned for his safety as she stepped through the broken glass of his apartment, she'd feared he'd jump or drown himself or...

But he'd told her no. He wouldn't. And she'd believed him. Maybe the emotions tearing thorough him now were normal. She had to believe he still meant what he said.

"You've always been strong," she lifted her head and he looked down at his shoulder and saw a wet mark from where her eyes had rested against his coat. " I know you still are and I am so proud of you for that. I have no right to tell you that you can't feel a certain way. But I don't believe for one second that you'd ever take the easy way out of anything. It's why you came back, isn't it? To fight for a second chance at life."

"Took me awhile. I didn't think I'd ever be able to come back here," And not just _here_, but New York...home," he started as she began twisted frozen blade of grass between her gloved fingers. "Mostly because of you. And us."

When had this turned into a conversation about them? Maybe it was just the tone of the day, but he sounded almost regretful. She knew exactly what was coming. Guilt. He was the leader in the self-blame game. How many times, how many years would it take before he believed he wasn't at fault for what happened? For any of it?

"I told you I'd wait for you," she said easily, afraid to let herself think about it too much.

"Because I asked you to wait," he reminded her. "And the more I think about it, the more I realize how selfish that was."

Elena shook her head. "I didn't see it that way."_  
_

"So what happened in those two years between me leaving for Iraq and coming home?" The regret in his voice registered with her as he continued. "You were happy?"

"Of course I wasn't," she frowned. "I was miserable. I missed you. Every day, but I waited. And when I found out you'd been home for six months and hadn't told me...I couldn't even bring myself to hate you. Not even after you turned me away. I wanted to, but I couldn't. And do you know why?"

When he didn't say a word, she gave him the answer. "Because I was just so glad you were alive."

"You were right to move on," he admitted.

"No I wasn't," she said under her breath but the look in his eye told her he'd heard.

And just like that their moment was over. Afraid to go any further with their conversation, he pulled his hands out of his pockets and slid up the tree to stand. He reached for her hand to help her up, and wordlessly they walked to the large, black headstone with Kol's name on it.

He knelt down before the stone and rubbed his fingers on the fabric of the small American flag stuck into the ground. She watched as he was slammed with a handful of different emotions. Sadness, regret, guilt, brotherly love. And she didn't dare try to comfort him. He needed to feel them...and as painful as it was for her to see him this way, it was so good to see a change in his expression. He looked healthier than ever.

"He liked you, you know," Damon said in a soft voice. "Thought you were good for me." He stood up and tried looking at her. She feared he'd say something to suggest he'd just been honoring his friend's wishes by starting a relationship with her. The thought had never crossed her mind. A man didn't propose marriage out of duty.

"And you were," he admitted. "You _are. _And I know I haven't done much to let you know that. Right now it's just easier to skim over that part. When I get to thinking about they way we were, I start to..."

"I get it," she stopped him gently before he could break her heart anymore. "Because it's the same for me. But I don't want it to come between us now. I've had enough time to accept that this isn't going to be easy for either of us...but it doesn't have to be this _hard_, either. This awkwardness isn't us, Damon. You may have changed and God knows I have, but we're still friends, aren't we? We don't have to be afraid of each other."

His eyes narrowed in contemplation, as if she'd just simplified something he'd been working long and hard to accept. As if she made it possible.

"Actually, I need to tell you something," she continued, on a roll. If she wanted things to be easy, she had to set an example. Even if it meant saying something that would probably scare the shit out of both of them. "But I don't want you to take it the wrong way. I haven't been completely honest...with anyone. I broke up with Matt," he opened his mouth to protest but she held up her hand.

"Let me finish. I should've done it a long time ago...I know you heard me earlier when I said I should've never started up things with him in the first place. And I can't get into the details with you, but believe me when I say it's not because you're home and I expect us to pick up where we left off."

He scanned her for a moment as if he trying to find something in her eyes that said she wasn't telling the complete truth. But he found nothing. If only she'd been so open and honest with him so long ago. If she hadn't wanted to marry him, she could've just said no. Ended the misery. Maybe then he would've been able to fight with a clear head...

"Okay," he breathed out nervously.

"No expectations," she arched an eyebrow. "I won't lie to you. Ever."

"I know," he said quickly, as if he'd always known...as if she were the only person in the entire world he _could _trust. It hadn't always been that way; she hadn't been so open about her emotions when they'd first met.

"I'd like you to come with me to see my Dad. Will you?" He was just a few curves past Kol's plot.

His nod sent a rush of relief straight to her heart. The progress they'd made, however small, was beautiful; she'd never thought she'd get to share moments like these with him again.

He watched as she kissed her father's headstone and touched the family picture that sat safely inside a weather-proofed frame in the ground. She looked so small yet so strong, he'd thought the first time he saw it. She was the strongest person he'd ever known and she was looking at him as if she'd always be his. She would. Somehow.

It seemed the roles were reversed. She'd once been the reluctant one, the one to pull away when things got too heavy. But he'd been her anchor, constantly reminding her that what they felt really _was_ real during the short time they had together. Now she was the one with gentleness and confidence in her eyes, and it was getting harder and harder for him to not want to figure out what that meant.

So he took a shot.

"You know, the first time I came here with you I felt like a fool," he admitted. She gave him a confused look, so he continued. "It was Thanksgiving..."

"I remember," she interrupted.

"I was nervous enough as it was...meeting your family," he swallowed. "Especially after you told me they'd be surprised you were bringing someone home. I didn't want to screw it up," he frowned, remembering. "And then when we came here and I saw you at your father's grave...I saw something in you I hadn't before...and I understood why you'd been so reluctant, why you were so tough and cautious. It made sense after I'd came home with you and saw it first hand. You were tough because you had to be. For you. For your family. You're the glue, Elena. I realized how much I wished I had a real family until I saw you with yours."

Surprised by his admission, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight, remembering the way he'd held her hand while she cried at her daddy's grave. He'd been her support then, as uncomfortable as she now knew he'd been. And now it was her turn to his stronghold, even if he wasn't hugging her back.

"I still care about you," he said softly, barely above a whisper. "A lot."

_Thank God. _Her pounding heart exploded.

"I know I shouldn't ask you again..." she said, desperately wishing he'd wrap his arms around her.

"Okay," she felt his adam's apple move against her forehead as he swallowed. She closed her eyes just as his right hand smoothed down the length of her hair...once...just once before it fell to his side again. "I'll come to Thanksgiving."


	7. Home

**A/N: Thanks for reading and for your patience. I don't want to rush the holidays but I will have a whole lot more time to write. :-) **

**We've got some past and some present in this one. I've chosen Phillip Phillips' "Home" for this chapter. I'm not typically the popular song type, and I almost even went with something else for this one, but every time I heard it on the radio it started to stick more that this was the one for this chapter. **

**Again, thanks for reading, and Happy Holidays. **

* * *

**Through The Ghost**

**Chapter 6: Home**

**2008- Damon's POV**

"If you end up with a bald spot you are not blaming me," Elena's voice was playfully stern as she ran the hair clipper along the side of his head slowly. Defiantly, he moved his head to the left until she jumped and pulled the razor away. "Seriously, sit still."

The smile in her voice was evident before she walked in front of him and stared down into his bright blue eyes. He couldn't get enough of the way she looked at him now, her eyes a perfect mixture of affection and wonder. Whatever had shifted between them had stuck longer than he'd expected, and he was surprisingly happy about it. He thought he'd lost everything when he'd buried Kol...but she'd been there, holding his hand as they lowered him into the ground.

In the weeks that had passed since, she'd showed him he wasn't as alone in the world as he'd originally thought. After his buddy's death had sunk in and his emotions began to stabilize, she was still there...and so were his feelings for her.

"You act like you've never done this before," her eyes worked over his head, assessing the job she'd done thus far before catching on his wide grin. "What's so funny?"

"You," he said in a voice so soft and warm he barely recognized it. "This whole thing, really," he scratched the side of his head and looked back up at her as his hands slid up the outside of her thighs, landing on her hips.

"As a matter of fact, I haven't done this before. Usually do my own thing with my hair," he tugged her closer until her knees bumped the inside of his as he sat on her kitchen chair.

"You're happy today," he heard her say. "It's nice." As she said it, it registered; he'd been down in the dumps more days than not recently.

"Yeah. I am," he said honestly, staring into her eyes for a few seconds. It was one of the first time she'd let him without looking away. It was unnerving and awesome and something he could very easily get used to...someone looking at him like _that_...like they needed him.

So yeah, it wasn't just the haircut that had him in a good mood; things had continued to ease between them over the last week. He'd felt a little lighter since she'd straightened his dress blues and given him a warm, reassuring kiss on the cheek before Kol's burial. He'd chalked it up to circumstance, but she'd been surprisingly warm to the idea of spending time with him since.

Their relationship hadn't done a complete 180 degree turn but she was lighter, softer with him than she'd ever been before and it was wonderful. He could handle her resistance as it came, though the dosages were smaller and further apart than before. Hell, he could wait it out if that's what it took, because eventually she'd get it; life seemed a whole hell of a lot more fun when she was around.

Elena wasn't the only one out of her element when it came to them; he had always taken what he wanted without fear of consequence. But if he pushed her too far too fast, she would cut him off. He'd have been crazy to turn her down when she invited him to her apartment for dinner. He'd be crazy to ever say no to her.

"I'm glad you're happy," she smiled. "Now hold still," he watched her eyes widen teasingly and hoped her heart was fluttering as fast as his was as she flipped the machine back on and began on the other side of his head. His fingers snuck under the hem of her shirt slowly. Her bare skin was warm against his, but most of all, he grinned widely at the simple fact that she wasn't pulling away.

"Hm," she managed finally, sliding the electric razor's power button to the off position again and setting it down on the table to her left. He gave her a teasing pout and moved his hands back to her waist.

"You're stopping? You can't be finished."

His lungs tightened as she brought her hand up to the side of his head and rubbed the fuzz of the hair she'd just buzzed. When her short fingernails dug gently into his scalp, he wanted to believe she was doing more than admiring her work some more.

"Yes. You're distracting me," she continued, resting her hands on his on her waist. His thumbs pressed into her hipbones and she doubled over for a second and tried to back away. "Damon, don't." And to his relief her words came out in a giggle instead of a warning. Instantly his grin doubled in size.

"Ah-ha! A weakness!" He laughed, digging his fingers into her a little harder, "You're ticklish."

She tried to pull away but he quickly shifted his hands up from her hips to wrap his arms around her waist and pulled her down onto his lap. And the minutes he spent holding her were heaven until she tugged herself forward in an attempt to escape.

"Stay," he insisted. Hesitantly, he leaned into the back of her neck and pressed a kiss to her bare skin. Knowing he'd stepped over the invisible line between friendship and more, he braced himself for the backlash.

Shifting her legs sideways in his lap, she turned to face him with a stable look in her eyes. "You better be nice to me. I might just decide to shave the whole thing. And you have too nice of hair to be bald," she smiled and hopped off his lap, firing up the razor again to get back to business. He watched her with a new adoration, soaking in every moment of attention she was dedicating only to him and he'd never felt so lucky.

"What'd I do to deserve this?" He asked her over the buzz of the razor. He'd heard of soldiers' girlfriends and wives buzzing their hair, but it had always sounded lame and weak. In all of his years, he'd never have guessed the certain intimacy of it; it felt wonderful to be taken care of for a change, even if Elena was just a friend. Even if they were destined to forever be label-free, strung tightly together by tension and attraction that wouldn't give up.

Ignoring his questions was her specialty; she conveniently never seemed to hear him when he asked something that would require an answer she might not be ready to give him. But he could accept that. Her silence meant he'd done his job and got her thinking about him...about them.

"There," she breathed. "You're done."

With jest in his eyes, he lifted himself from the kitchen chair and made his way to the bathroom mirror. Rather than follow him like he hoped, she stayed behind and packed the razor back up in its plastic case and tucked it away in the hall closet. He took a moment to run his hand over his hair appreciatively and gave her a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Elena. Really," he took care to make sure she understood his sincerity. "You did a good job. Why do you have a kit, anyway? You go around cutting all your patients' hair?"

"Funny," she smirked. "It's my brother Jeremy's," she explained. "I borrowed it."

_Oh_! So this was planned. Even better. He probably shouldn't point that out, though; might kill the mood of the night and things were going so well.

"Younger or older?" Strangely, he found himself curious about her life outside of the military. In the past he'd practically gone out of his way to learn as little as possible about the women he pursuit. No attachments. No family. No real feelings.

"What?" She asked as she filled a pot with water to boil on the stove.

"Your brother," he repeated. "Baby brother or big brother?"

"Little," she said, turning off the faucet and setting the pot on the burner. She pulled out the band holding up her hair and let it fall in loose, messy waves to her shoulders. He watched her, hungrier for the woman in front of him than the food she was making him. "He's older than you," she gave him a wide smile. "So you better watch it. Protective and all that."

"So you're close, then?" He plopped down on her couch and rested his side against a throw pillow. She bit her lip as she sat at the other end of the loveseat, drawing her feet up near his lap. Slowly she dug her bare toes under his leg to stay warm and let out a sigh. "What's the matter? He's not a jerk to you, is he?"

"No, it's nothing like," she said with a soft smile. "More like the other way around. He's too good to me and I'm bad at showing him I care."

Slowly he tugged at her right ankle, pulling it up onto his lap. His thumbs pressed into her heel with just the right amount of pressure to soothe away the stress. He checked her reaction for rejection but his heart settled when she saw her eyes closed and a content smile on her face. If he wasn't careful he could get used to this.

"Tell me about them," he said softly. "Your family." He recalled the sadness in her eyes as she'd talked about her late father a few weeks ago at the school. Maybe he was foolish or crazy to dive into her personal life on a night that seemed to be going to well, but he found himself needing to know her...all of her, including her demons.

"It's a long, sad story that you're better off _not_ knowing," she assured him, opening her eyes when he stopped massaging her foot. He simply stared at her, willing her to stay focused, stay with him and not throw up walls to block their connection. She sighed and let her head fall back agains the arm of the couch, relaxing into the softness and letting herself breathe.

After a moment she started. "I was an Army brat," she began, staring up at the ceiling. Oh, how those five words brought such clarity to the situation. Happy that she was sharing something with him, he tugged her other ankle up on his lap and began working on her left foot.

"My dad was my hero," she breathed. "And he still is. He's the reason I joined the Army. He's the reason I got into the physical therapy program, too." He heard her breathing change and he feared she was about to close him off before she got to the heart and soul of the story. "Life made sense when he was around.. And when he died...it just didn't anymore."

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. He needed to know more; he just couldn't ask.

"I still don't understand it,," she admitted. "I've been trying to make sense of it for years," He had no idea how old she'd been or how it happened but he could guess it wasn't very recently. He could only assume he'd died in battle. "I thought if I joined the military, helped people that I would feel resolved about it. That I could forgive myself for what happened to him...but I can't."

Her honesty wrecked him, even if he had no idea what she was talking about. Did she blame herself for her father's death? Maybe he hadn't died in war after all. More than ever he wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her that nothing was her fault, that even though he'd never met his father he'd be willing to bet money that whatever had happened to him hadn't been because of her.

"So I've spent years like this," she gestured to herself. "Closed off and broken. I'm a mess in my own head, Damon, and I have been for years. It's hard to be close with my family when all I can think about is him every time I see an empty seat at the dinner table."

Certainly they didn't blame her either, but what could he possibly say to comfort her when he knew only a portion of her history. Nothing. So he did what he could do. He reached for her hand and linked their fingers together until she heard the water boiling.

And just as he'd figured, their moment was over.

He knew better than to restart the conversation, so he instead helped her cook. He watched her pour the penne into the boiling water and stir it gently to keep it from sticking to the pan. He smiled when he saw her watching him out of the corner of her eye as he rolled up his sleeves and pulled out a knife to begin dicing the garlic she'd chosen to season her sauce. He chopped with skill and precision, soaking in the aromas of homemade food and a peaceful, quaint little apartment with a woman who was quickly becoming very important to him.

"This is delicious," he said with raised eyebrows as he pointed down to the pasta with his fork. "I could eat this everyday. Easily. Better than that crap they serve in the chow halls."

"It's not as good as my mother's," she shrugged. "But I like to try. I could learn a lot from her if I tried. I've just never been too serious about learning all that stuff. But now that I'm older...and might be getting out of all this soon..." she added, watching his eyes widen "It might be time I try to learn how to do some of these things for real."

"When is your time up?" he slid a piece of pasta into his mouth to keep himself occupied from asking too many imposing questions. Maybe she didn't want to talk about it; after all, she'd made it seem like she thought she was a failure at her duty. How wrong she was.

"Five more months," she said seriously. "And everything sensible tells me to reenlist. I've been overseas but hardly done the work I wanted to."

"You can't tell me you wanted to go to Afghanistan...or Iraq," he frowned.

"Is that so hard to believe?" She frowned in return. "That I might want to be somewhere I could make a real difference instead of stuck on a base with a bunch of guys that screw up their ankles by tripping?" She blurted out and covered her mouth, embarrassed that she'd let it slip. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make fun of you,"

He smiled, forgiving her indiscretions. "It's okay," he smiled, taking a sip of his ice water again to buy himself time to come up with a good response. "I guess I understand what you mean. I just can't believe you'd want to risk it, especially when you could be out, living a life without having to worry about being sent off to die."

"You said you didn't care if you were deployed there," she reminded him. "Why should I?"

"Because you have a family that loves you," he explained seriously. _And I don't want you to go._

"And you might not be the closest with them right now, but you have the chance to be, if you want to. Don't give that up," he shook his head. "If you're smart, you'll walk away."

"I thought you love what you do," she frowned, surprised at his reaction. "I thought you said it didn't matter to you either way if you stayed or went."

"Right. But that's _me_, not you." he said simply. "You've served your country for years, Elena. And I haven't known you for long but I can see what it's done to you. Everything you just told me about your father, about your family situation...everything you've done has been for someone else."

"That's how I work," she explained.

"It's time you think about yourself. What do you want?" He urged her. "What would make you happy? You could have your own practice..."

"I haven't been happy for years," her quick answer saddened him. "And this is all I know. I don't know how to do anything else...now can we please stop talking about it and finish eating?"

"Yes," he said with a sigh. "I'm sorry. Just think about it, okay? Don't rush into anything."

"I never do," she clarified, eyeing him carefully until he smirked. "Enough about my family drama. What about yours? Where's home to you? Will you be going back for Thanksgiving?"

He set his fork down next to his dish and cleared his throat; she'd thrown him for a loop with that one. If she thought she wasn't ready to talk about her family, he _really_ wasn't ready. Her story was sad but she at least had some family left. Not like him. As far as he was concerned he was finally truly alone in the world, now that Kol was dead. His only hope of someone else caring for him was sitting across from him, blinking her pretty brown eyes and breaking his foolish, young heart.

"To make a long, painful story short,, I'll be here for Thanksgiving. Home has been a lot of different places over the years, but New York's had me the longest," he took a sip of water. "And now to make this conversation really depressing...my Thanksgiving plans have fallen through recently."

He stared at her, hoping she'd catch on. But when she didn't, he released a breathe and said one word. "Kol."

"Oh," she gasped. "God, Damon...I'm sorry..." she reached across the table and touched his hand.

"Not your fault. His Mom had invited me a month or so ago. She said I was still welcome, but I can't go," he shook his head. "Guy was like a brother to me. Guess I don't really want to stare at empty seat, either."

He watched her eyes soften in sympathy so few had shown him over the years. He wasn't into pity parties but it felt so good to have someone worry about him...think about him...care about him. He almost felt like he had someone. Almost.

And he saw something running through her mind as cleared off the dinner table, scraping the excess sauce off the plates into the garbage disposal. He caught her glancing at him now and then as if something was on the tip of her tongue but she was afraid to say it.

"Damon," she said as he'd cleared the last of the dishes off the table and set them into the sink.

"Elena," he said her name playfully, winking when she rolled her eyes.

"I'll be going home for Thanksgiving," she swallowed. "My Mom makes a huge meal and I was in Germany for it last year. I'd like it if you came home with me."

"Really?" He asked quietly, as if was afraid she hadn't meant it or that she'd change her mind if he made to big of a deal out of it.

"Yes," she insisted. "I don't want you to be alone."

Was his heart even still beating?

"I usually go home a day early. I'm a lot closer this year than I have been before, but I thought I might just stick with the tradition and head home Wednesday night. You up for that, too?"

_What_? Spend the night at her family's home? Damon's head spun with possibilities at the simple invitation she'd just extended to him. Blood pounded through his ears as he imagined how the night would play out. He'd have to spend quality time with her Mom and brother...and he wasn't so good with family stuff. The thought would've choked him if it had been anyone else; but he'd do anything for Elena. Anything.

"And your Mom will be okay with all of that?" He asked, his eyebrows dipped in worry. "Me barging in like that, sleeping over..."

"We have a guest room," she arched an eyebrow. "And as for my family, they'll be surprised, but happy. I haven't ever done this before. I've actually been avoiding this kind of things for years," she laughed. "Don't be surprised if they hug you."

With one hand he ran the back of his hand up her arm slowly, sweetly until she stepped closer to him and he felt a chill rise up in her skin. "So what do we say when they ask if we're together?"

The smirk on her face was priceless. He'd asked the golden question, he figured, because she'd have to answer. Even silence would tell him something; she always fell silent when things got too hard to explain. He'd take anything he could when it came to her feelings.

"They know better than to push me like that," she clarified. "They'll understand what it means that I've brought someone home." Her eyes danced with new affection. "Don't worry you won't have to explain anything."

"So what _does_ it mean? Even I don't know," His voice peaked with hopefulness that was quickly dashed away when she didn't say a word. And just as he was about to kick himself in the ass for putting himself out there like an idiot, she closed the distance between them, pressing a soft kiss to his lips that lasted and lasted, pulling him deeper into whatever it was he was falling into.

"So we're..." he started, pulling away with a brow knit with confusion. She shook her head and covered his lips with hers again. And while it was wonderful to kiss her, he was baffled, left without answers. Typically this would've been perfect, but not with her. Everything about his relationship with Elena was different than anything he'd ever been in before.

"Don't ruin it," she pled with desperate eyes, brushing his cheek with her palm and smiling. moving up to kiss him again.

"Okay," he said softly just before he took her face between his hands and kissed her with new vigor, appreciation. And she was probably playing head games and he'd probably end up with a broken heart for the very first time if this went terribly wrong, but he couldn't pull away.

He refused to believe a woman like Elena Gilbert would screw with his heart; she was wounded and fragile and didn't do things like this unless she was sure. She may be wordless and afraid to admit anything aloud, but her lips told him everything as they moved against his; she'd lost the battle of self-control when it came to him and he'd forgotten how to _not_ care about a woman.

If this was what she wanted, a label-free connection, he'd give it to her the best he could. They had all the time in the world to hash out the details. Soon she'd be out of the military and things would calm down. Suddenly he was blindsided with images and pictures of what a future might be like once he got out, too, and for the first time it was bright. And dammit if he didn't see her there right along side him, holding his hand.

* * *

** Present Day**

"And this will allow him to run again" Elena handled the prosthesis and tugged her gaze away from Damon to look back at the physical therapist. In a way he felt small, as if he were a child at the doctor's office with his mother, but then he remembered that had hardly _ever_ happened. Elena was gentle and defensive and it reminded him of the way things used to be. When she'd taken care of him before he'd actually liked it, craved it, which was different than anyone else. And he didn't have the strength to think this kind of thing through on his own. He was grateful.

"Yes," she said confidently. "In time he'll be able to do all the things he wants and needs to do again," she looked toward Damon whose eyes were dark and sad, as if he was embarrassed that he was even in the predicament in the first place.

"I'd like to think about it," he said finally. "We'll get back to you," he hopped down off the table and gently hung Elena's coat around her shoulders, flipping her hair to the outside of her coat before he buttoned it up snugly as he'd always done before. She watched him with curious, appreciative eyes that he wished he could give her back. Instead he buttoned his own coat and held the door open for her to leave the clinic.

"What's there to think about?" She frowned. "This is going to change everything. Why wouldn't you jump at this chance, Damon?"

"One thing at a time," he told her. "That's something I'm working on, too. Decision making was kind of...taken away from me for awhile. I'd just like to have some time to sort through things a little. Maybe the others would be better for me. I don't know if I'm up to all that again...I don't even know if I'd like running anymore. I ran so much when I was fighting that it's kind of lost it's appeal."

She offered him a small, understanding smile. "It's your life."

"But you want to have a say in it," he stated matter-of-factly. "You want me to be back to normal again, right? That's why you want me to go with that one..."

"I don't want you to have limitations. If you want to run, do it. If you don't, then don't. But I get the feeling you're punishing yourself and I don't think I'll ever understand why."

"You won't," he assured her. "And even I get this thing and end up running a marathon one day, I won't be back to normal, so get it out of your head, Elena."

"Fine, but that's not what I thought," she said softly, raising her hands in defense. "Sorry."

He felt the ice spewing from his lips and tried to soften his tone. She'd done so much for him already. Maybe he was just afraid that she was already more involved than he was ready for.

"Ugh," he slid his hand down his face, hoping he'd come out of it with a new, gentler expression that wouldn't have her sounding so disappointed. "I know that. I asked you to help me with this because I know I won't go through with it on my own. I get to thinking, then it turns into remembering and I end up just shutting down. And that's the case with more than just my foot. I don't mean to snap on you," his lips tugged upward into a lopsided, apologetic smile and he heard her sigh.

"Take as long as you want with this," she tipped her head back toward the clinic before they started walking again. "And everything else." He blinked at her slowly, as if to ask her what she could've possibly meant by that.

And he should've come up with something better than "I will," but he just couldn't. He stood there, good foot planted solidly on the earth, not so good foot bent at the knee, toes pressed into the ground. "I know I'm a pain in the ass," he said straight-faced and more serious than she'd have liked. "But I'm glad you put up with it...I think I did the right thing by coming home."

"You did," she assured him quickly, wrapping her hands around his wrists at his sides and staring him right in the eye. "Thank you for trusting me."

He gave her small nod that said he'd probably exhausted his emotions for the day so she smiled back and gave his hands a squeeze once before he could pull them away. And she probably said something else, but he lost sense of everything once he got stuck back in his head.

"I'll let you get on with your day," she offered, brushing the light, white snow from the shoulders of his jacket. Clearing her throat, she excused herself before things got too awkward or she pushed him past his limits. They'd agreed to meet just for the appointment. "Call me later, if you're up to it, and we can talk through Thanksgiving plans."

Across the street Miranda Gilbert couldn't believe her eyes. She'd called Elena's office earlier that day after she realized she hadn't talked to her in a few days. And Matt had been a little too matter-of-fact about Elena taking some time off. Just because her daughter was 30-years-old didn't mean she worried about her any less than when she was a child.

And now it made complete sense. She'd had to blink a few times to make sure she hadn't imagined things. Surely Elena would've told her Damon Salvatore was not only back in New York City but also back in her life. A few hundred feet wasn't far enough to miss the smile on her daughter's face as she leaned in closely to wish the man goodbye with a gentle stroke of her hand along his cheek.

That was the face of a woman whose soldier had returned home, despite all the nonsense that had happened in between. She'd recognize it anywhere because she'd worn the expression herself when Grayson had gotten off that plane so many years ago.

She took a breath and put on a brave face, knowing her daughter's insides were probably ripped to shreds over the man who'd just walked away. It would probably be better to pretend she hadn't seen anything. Elena hadn't mentioned he was back for a reason and she had a pretty good idea of why. They weren't best friends but Miranda hadn't been blind or deaf during the four years since he'd left for war. Her daughter was strong in a lot of ways...always had been...but she'd seen the tears she'd tried to hide and heard the screams of nightmares Elena tried to pretend never happened. And honestly, she'd felt her child's pain right along with her, though she'd never had the strength or heart to tell her that. Because Elena hadn't meant to fall in love with Damon, but she did. And everything she'd wanted in life for her daughter started to play out like a sad memory of her own life.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" Elena pulled her keys out of her purse and flipped through them until she found the one she needed to get into her apartment.

"I was worried about you," she said sadly, walking through the door into the warm air of her daughter's apartment when Elena held the door open for her. "I called the office and Matt said you'd taken a little break. And while I've been trying to convince you to take some time off for awhile now, I know that's not like you."

She watched Elena's expression carefully, searching for tell-tale signs of anger, frustration or the beginning of anxiety as she'd seen so many times, but nothing came. She unwrapped her long, blue scarf slowly and set it neatly on her table, pulled off her coat and pulled two mugs down from her cabinet. "Time for some coffee?"

"Always." She'd spent years wishing she and Elena could sit down and really have a conversation. She'd tried and failed so many times before and the mention of Damon had usually immediately shut down any progress they'd made. What in her right mind made her think it would be any different this time around?

Maybe she'd been part of the reason her relationship with her daughter had been so fragile and unstable. For years she'd been going through her own set of depressive thoughts, missing a husband who was never coming back, failing to remind her daughter that she didn't _have_ to be strong all the time...that it was okay to cry. But she'd been so weak herself that Elena had probably taken her cue about love from what she saw in her own home. Why would she ever want to go through what her mother had? Why would she ever want to love someone if they would eventually leave and she'd be stuck with a broken heart...forever?

"I know you probably don't want to talk about it...but I should probably be honest with you right away for once in my life," Miranda wrapped her hands around the steaming mug of coffee her daughter had poured for her, hoping things would be different this time. "I know Damon is home. I saw you with him just now before I walked over from across the street," she closed her eyes and her face set into a cringe, waiting for _it's none of your business _or _don't worry about it._

If she'd learned one thing about her oldest child's personality over the years, it was that she tended to flip the switch and turn her fear into anger as a way to defend herself.

When she reopened her eyes, her stare got stuck on Elena's hand, trembling against her mug of coffee. She'd said nothing, but by the time Miranda's gaze reached her daughter's eyes, she saw the most raw, honest expression she'd ever seen on Elena's face...and it both mended and broke her heart, because she had a pretty good idea of what she was going through.

"I know what you're going to say," Elena bit her lip. "That I'm making a mistake. That I should've told you sooner..._don't I remember what he put me through?" _she listened to her child through out every explanation in the book, but the truth was...she didn't have to. She got it. Completely.

But before she could find the words to tell her she didn't have to explain anything at all, Elena was boiling over with reasons to justify their reconnection.

"But he's hurting..." she continued. "He needs help...he needs _me_, Mom...and I need him, too. I always have," she folded her fingers together and rested them on the table. "And before you freak out...we're just _friends _and yes, I know the risks, but it's worth it."

"That's not what I was going to say, honey," Miranda shook her head and reached across the table. "You don't have to explain anything to me. I just want to know that you're okay."

"Give me a few months and I'll get back to you on that," she smiled sadly. "I'm still on my medicine. His being back hasn't cured me of any of that...and I know you and everyone else thinks he's the reason I'm on it in the first place..."

"Elena, nobody said that," she whispered. "And nobody thinks less of you for it."

She watched her daughter's face turn pink. "Matt did," she managed through a shaky voice. "We broke up...I broke up with him. Not for Damon..."

"It would be okay if it was," she assured her honestly and Elena's eyebrows rose in surprise. It was strange but wonderful to reach out to her this way. She'd only wished she'd been a bit more courageous while Damon was actually away.

They'd been together, she knew, and it was serious. Elena never admitted she loved him but Miranda didn't need verbal confirmation from the way her daughter looked and acted around the man. And when he left, she cried for hours but wouldn't ever say a word about it.

It was like she was revived, after all these years... like their child-parent relationship was getting a second shot and she wasn't going to mess it up this time.

"I know what it's like to wait, Elena," she offered gently, revisiting a place that had been so dark and lonely for so many years. 21 years later and that dark cloud of sadness still loomed over her heart. "And to worry yourself sick every day and every night that you might never see him again."

"This isn't like Daddy," she shook her head. "You were married, had a family. I can't even compare this."

"You loved him," she said gently, matter-of-factly. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, but I always knew," she gave her a soft, reassuring smile. "And I'm not going to ask if you still do because I already know the answer."

She watched her daughter take a deep breath and her own eyes welled up with tiny tears.

"Daddy came home to us. Damon left me," she blinked before her tears could fall. "I'm not his wife and we don't have anything more than a few months history where we've actually been together in the same place. So maybe I'm an idiot for thinking this is right, but I have to do this...and not just for him,"

"Okay," she nodded.

"You're not going to say I'm making a mistake?"

"No," she said simply. "This is your life and it's about time you started living it. And I don't want you to get hurt anymore, but I'm so proud of you for putting yourself out there and trying for something you want for a change. I won't even tell you to be careful because honestly, you've been too careful for too many years."

Elena's expression changed from confusion to understanding and she squeezed her mom's hand back in gratefulness. "Thank you, Mom. Like I said, we're friends. That may be all we'll ever be," Miranda registered the disappointment in her child's voice and continued to listen with a heavy heart. "He's just in a really scary place right now."

"I'm sorry," she offered, though those simple words didn't do enough to explain the connection she felt between them. She was sorry for all of it, from beginning to end. She'd wanted her daughter to grow up and find love...with whomever made her happy and treated her right. When Damon Salvatore walked into her home, holding Elena's hand...looking at her like she was the single most important person in the world, she'd be happy. And when she'd found he'd been shipped off to war, well, she felt the shadow of the past creeping up on her family again. Of all the ways she'd wanted Elena to be just like her, that was the one thing she'd prayed wouldn't happen. God help them if they both lost the men they loved.

And now he was back...flawed...seemingly broken...but back. Who was she to tell her daughter she shouldn't still love him after all these years? What she would give to have just one more day, or hour even, with Grayson...just to tell him she loved him one more time.

"You were so small when your father left," she wiped a stray tear off her cheek before it could slide down and fall into her mug. "I had ways to stay busy but I never stopped thinking about him. And when he came home...and after the fire..." she stopped to collect herself. "When we lost him I lost myself. Damon may not have died, but you lost him for awhile...and I know it had to have been the same for you. I bet you feel lucky to have him back in your life."

Elena nodded silently. The tears in her eyes were for both men, Miranda knew.

"I invited him to Thanksgiving. I hope that's okay," she bit her lip again.

Surprise and satisfaction registered in Miranda's eyes; it was wonderful that Elena was already ready to share him with her family again. She'd been so shocked when she'd brought him home the first time, but after she'd met him she completely understood why; he was charming and handsome and best of all, he made Elena smile and laugh harder than she ever had...even as a child. The light in her eyes had said it all; she'd finally given herself a chance at being happy. It didn't come as a surprise when she'd told her mother that she'd decided not to reenlist.

"Of course it is. You know he's always welcome."

"I'm more worried about Jere than you," she sighed. "I told him awhile back that Damon was home. He sensed something was wrong and I just had to tell someone. I don't think he's as understanding about it as you seem to be."

"He's your baby brother and he worries about you. As long as Damon treats you nicely, Jeremy will be okay. Don't worry," she paused, frowning for a second. "You know, when I talked to Matt he didn't say he wouldn't be able to make Thanksgiving. At the time I didn't know you two had broken up."

"He said he didn't know what he was doing," Elena shrugged. "I know he's been a part of this family for longer than Damon has but I've got to be honest. I'm a little worried about how it's going to go over. For both of them. Matty's my friend but it's all still a little fresh; I don't want to lose him but every little thing about both of them pushes the other over the edge. I don't want fighting,"

"If you want, I can call Matt and suggest he takes a year off,"

"I think I've hurt him enough for awhile," she smiled sadly. "And like I said, Damon's just my.."

"Friend. I know," she smiled. "But that's all you said he was last time, too...and we all remember what happened there,"

She watched her daughter's face go from pink to red in an instant. "Mom! I can't believe you'd bring that up," she laughed. "Really."

"Tis the season," Miranda smiled.

"For awkward family get togethers and a reminders to _knock_," she watched Elena's eyes flash and knew the memories were floating through her mind as if it had just happened yesterday.

"But really, honey. This is all going to be fine. Whatever you decide, whatever happens, I want you to know you're not alone. I think you might have felt alone for a long time, and that's my fault. I should've been better about all of it, but all I could see was you spiraling downward and unwilling to talk. I should've pushed you to talk. Talking helps,"

"I know that now," she took a sip of her coffee and maintained eye contact. "Thanks, Mom."

"I've got your back as long as you're safe and happy."

"I'm safe," she assured her. "Damon would never hurt me...not like that. He's hurting in a lot of ways but I know he'd never hurt _me. _I just wish he'd stop trying to punish himself."

"Has he told you what he went through? Your father never really told me. It killed me not knowing, but he always said he couldn't talk about it or that I was better off not knowing. That he didn't want to scare me...but I wish so badly that I could've known so that I could tell him how brave he was and how much of a hero he was...not only for us but for this country."

"It's the same," she smiled sadly. "He won't talk. He says he wants to...knows he needs to...but I can't get anything out of him aside from the vibe that he thinks he should've died over there."

"You know there's a chance he may never tell you," she warned carefully. "I don't mean to upset you but I want you to know that if that happens, it's not because you weren't supportive enough. It's not so uncommon for them to keep it to themselves forever. Don't think you're failing, honey."

"Okay," she said in a relieved tone that told Miranda she, indeed, had thought she was doing a poor job of it. "I just don't know what to do."

"No one does," she said sadly. "So we do what we can. We love them," her mother played with the wedding ring she'd refused to take off her finger, even twenty plus years later. "And hope that it's enough."


	8. Paperweight

**A/N: I'm so happy to post this! It was originally set to be one chapter with intermixed flashbacks/present day, but once I started actually getting it all down, I realized there's no possible way to fit it all. I've decided to break it into two chapters so as not to lose any quality for the sake of keeping the chapter a sensible length. They're already long enough as it is! **

**We're still doing a little time jumping. Most of the chapter is set in the past, and as we get into the next one, we'll see mostly present day stuff. I decided to take a bit of a different approach on the flashback this time. It was a fun change of pace to make it in this POV.**

**PS- Prepare for a shocker. It was to me when I wrote it, just so you know. ;) **

**I picked "Paperweight" by Joshua Radin and Schuyler Fisk for this one. Cute song that I think is just right for the past DE we'll see here. Thanks for reading! **

* * *

**Through the Ghost**

**Chapter 7 - Paperweight**

**Present Day - Thanksgiving Day **

"Hold up a second," Damon blurted out, tugging her coat sleeve just inside the elbow to stop her from opening the door. His forehead creased as he pressed his hand up against the door. "How much do they know?"

Elena's head tilted to the side as she offered him a soft, reassuring smile. "Hardly anything. You don't need to worry."

"Okay, so what's our story, then?" He asked. She waited a smirk but it never came.

The frozen ground numbed her feet through her tall, black boots. Her thumb and index finger slid through a wave of her hair, picking out tiny snowflakes. "I think they know our story, Damon."

"You know what I mean. What what are we telling them?" His blue oceans were frozen over with concern. They'd once been so bright and warm...the type of sea she'd wanted to be lost in forever.

"The truth," she frowned. "What's there to lie about?"

The look of pure confusion that crossed his face had her thinking. What was the truth, anyway?

"Okay, I know I was pretty good at keeping my mouth shut and dodging things last time we were in this situation, but they know about know we were more than friends, emphasis on the _were_," she clarified and reached up to brush snowflakes off both of his shoulders. "Now you're back."

Come to think of it, she hadn't let herself think much further in advance than just that.

"Right, okay. You've listed the basics. I'm talking details." He whispered, hand still pressed up against the thick oak of the front door. "You know, the stuff you and I can't even bring ourselves to talk about, let alone throw it out there on the table like a side dish for everyone to enjoy with the turkey. '_Miranda, the turkey is amazing. Can you please pass the steaming hot bowl of unplanned pregnancies and unanswered proposals._"'

She gasped, horrified. Her glassy eyes were stuck on him, unable to look away, even though it hurt. His brow knit and his hand slid off the door and reached out for hers but she snagged it away quickly.

"Stop," she barely got the word out.

He might be numb to it but she wasn't and never would be. This was exactly why she'd been so afraid to talk to him about their past; she feared her problems paled in comparison to the tragedies he'd seen. This was the ghost she couldn't release, and whether or not he'd meant it, he'd just thrown it in her face in attempt to prove himself right about not being worthy of her.

What had happened to the boy who'd pressed his head into her lap and wept that day? If one thing in their life together had been precious, it had been this. It had tilted their world. It was untouchable, sacred, and he didn't get to use it like this.

She blinked at him in mortified confusion as he scrambled to find a way to apologize.

But before he could say anything the thick front door opened, revealing a woman Damon hadn't seen in what felt like a lifetime. She scanned over her daughter carefully, but if she noticed the tears, she didn't say a word about it. Her attention shifted toward Damon, whose face had gone from sheet white to red to sea green over the course of the last two minutes.

"We'll be in in a minute, Mom," Elena said, blinking back the tears before looking at Miranda. "We're just finishing up here."

"Oh, finish you're bickering inside, will you?" She teased, knowingly. It was just so like them. "It's freezing out there."

Elena faked a smile, but once the door was closed, the lines of her face flattened. It seemed the small interruption had given him enough time to get himself together.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he whispered, inches from her face. His hot breath touched her pink nose and she closed her eyes. "You know what? This was a bad idea. I can just go," he backed up, fumbling for his cell phone.

She stared at him, her face blank, and he couldn't move.

"Jesus, just say something, please."

Although he'd always claimed it hadn't been the reason he proposed, she'd always sort of believed it had something to do with it. The whole series of events had been one tragic fiasco that she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy. Not with the way it turned out.

But that was then and this was now. It was time to get her head on straight. She answered him calmly once she'd reeled her emotions back in. It was the only way to stay in check and avoid the panic. Her words came out like a well thought out, perfectly reasonable speech...like she hadn't just had her heart ripped out of her chest and stomped on all over again.

"I wish you'd just admit that I hurt you instead of finding ways like this to make me figure it out myself. You won't get close to me because you're still angry about the way I handled everything," she waited a beat as she saw the confirmation in his eyes. "To be honest, I'm surprised you'd use it as a way to push me away." she pled. "That's our business and no...I haven't told anyone about it and I don't plan on it."

He blinked once, speechless. Regret registered in his steady eyes and it was enough to push her to continue. Hurt or not, there were lines and he'd just crossed one.

"And I haven't been skipping all the gory details because I'm afraid to talk about it," she frowned. "I didn't think we were anywhere close to being ready for all of that. It doesn't mean I don't think about it. So in the future, if you're getting upset, please just tell me and don't use our past against me."

He released a heavy sigh and ran a gloved hand through his hair, tugging once and looking up at the grey, cloudy sky. They'd never really taken the time to talk about it. It had all all happened so fast that they'd scooted over it as if it had simply been an error in judgement. For a minute they'd even pretended they'd dodged a bullet. It wasn't until after he'd left that he'd started to wonder just what it had done to them.

Her chest rose and fell erratically as he met her eyes. He'd run off his mouth without thinking about what it would do to her. How had he forgotten about her panic attacks so easily?

"I'm sorry," he said simply, because he was sorry for a lot of things. "I wasn't thinking." His voice broke and she looked up at him in surprise. The pain floating in his eyes was evident and different than what she'd gotten accustomed to since he'd come home.

Yes, they were a mess. Whether he'd done it on purpose or it had slipped out, she couldn't let him use his depression as a reason to be cruel. But she could forgive him. It would've come up eventually...just not on Thanksgiving Day and not like this.

The younger version of herself would've stomped her foot and run away or let him call a cab. But time had done her some good, too. People make mistakes. Grudges are nothing more than poison.

She closed her eyes and slid her fingers between his, wishing away the memory he'd just kickstarted in her fragile mind. They needed to talk soon.

They stared forward through the open door, his hand still in hers. She took a step and felt her her arm tugged back as his feet were cemented in place. The last thing she wanted to do was make him think he'd done something completely unforgivable. He already hated himself. She let out a sigh, rubbed her thumb over his again and tugged him forward again.

"Let's just go in," she whispered finally.

They moved toward the embrace of familiarity... the warmth of a house only Thanksgiving Day could bring with an oven cranked up for hours. The tightness of his grip in her hand left a bittersweet feeling in her heart.

Surprisingly, she felt Damon's hand rub over her back twice as he leaned in close to her ear and said through a few thick brown waves. "I really am sorry, Lena," It was all he said but it was enough. He looked as rattled as she felt and it was becoming obvious that this day was going to be tricky for both of them.

"Okay," she whispered with a nod and a breath.

With his hand on her back they walked inside and tugged off their gloves. Miranda met them with bright, adoring eyes and placed a kiss on her daughter's cheek before moving toward Damon. She squeezed his hand carefully once before opening her arms and pulling him into a warm hug. He felt the worry and stress drain from his body as he let himself be held by a woman he'd once wished would be his mother. "Welcome home," she said carefully. "We're so glad you're here."

"Thank you, Miranda," he said respectfully, all sign of worry out of his voice. And as she released him, the tension didn't resume within him as he'd figured on. Instead, he took in the sights and smells of a home he'd loved the first time he'd seen it...a home that had felt more like a home than anything he'd ever had.

"I've made some coffee and Jere and his family will be over soon," Miranda said. "Make yourselves comfortable. It'll be done in an hour or so."

"I can help you," Elena gave Damon a quick look that said _I'll be right back_, before heading into the kitchen. "What can I do?"

_Deep breaths. Slow down, Elena. No panic attacks on holidays. It's like an unwritten rule, or something._

Miranda smiled knowingly and set her spatula on the counter. "You can go back out there and sit with him."

"I think we need a breather," she admitted, running her hand through her hair and holding it off her neck to cool herself from the heat of the oven. Her tears had dried but her cheeks were still pink.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm going to be," she said seriously. "I'm sorry about what you walked into out there. We're just sorting some things out."

"Go sort," she countered with a smirk. "Go on. I've been making green bean casserole for years. It hasn't suddenly gotten harder. You'll be okay," Miranda kissed her on the cheek. Elena could appreciate that her mother hadn't handed her a bunch of questions the second they'd gotten out of earshot from him. Surely she'd sensed the tension she'd walked into outside.

Knowing her mom was right, she turned around and headed back out into the living room where she saw Damon standing in front of a wall covered in pictures, hands in his pockets. Maybe he was trying to distract himself. Kicking the unease from moments ago to the side, she reminded herself that none of it was his fault. He'd simply loved her back then.

And whether he wanted to admit it or not, he needed her to love him now. Maybe just as a friend. Maybe in some confusing half-romantic half-friend way. Years ago she'd felt like he was hers, and with that, came responsibility. But he wasn't hers now and he wasn't her responsibility anymore. She didn't have to take care of him, she didn't owe him anything. She hadn't said _yes_...she wasn't his wife. There was no baby...

Someone with more common sense and heart-smarts would've blown him off the second he brought up any of the above. But this wasn't out of obligation at all. It was out of some form of undefinable love. But this time there was no rush, no chance to be ripped apart by war.

Done analyzing, she let herself just feel. She sidled up next to him and rested her head lightly against the side of his shoulder. Just being against him made everything feel more normal, and god help her if it was selfish to think of herself for a change. When she finally looked up to see what he'd been fixated on for the last few minutes her heart stopped.

"Tell me what I can do..." It left her lips in a sigh.

He answered with a shrug and she could only nod, knowing neither of them knew anything anymore. So yeah, she could hold a grudge. She could be upset that he'd chosen this, of all days, to bring up their relationship when all she wanted was one, peaceful day with him. But none of it would help anything. They had issues; it wasn't a newsflash or anything.

Before the war there had been them. Before they'd remembered who they were, what they were, they'd just been Damon and Elena...not Colonel. Not Sergeant. Two people who were going to bring a new little life into the world...and for that short while, they had felt normal.

But they couldn't go back...only forward. And she needed him to know that she forgave him, for everything, and hope he could forgive her too.

The moment was swept away when he changed the subject.

"I like this picture," she pulled it down off the wall and rubbed her thumb over the glass, caressing his smiling face.

"I'm on the wall," he stated simply.

"Of course you are," she snuck her arm in the crook of his elbow again.

"Why?" He genuinely sounded confused, as if for the life of him, he couldn't understand why the picture would be on the wall. After he'd left her. After he'd turned her away.

"Because you were mine."

* * *

**The day before Thanksgiving- 2008 - Damon's POV**

"Wait," Damon pulled her gently back toward him before she could open the front door of her childhood home. His hands clasped gently along her jawline and he pressed his lips to hers in a searing kiss. Her hands grasped the front of his coat and pulled him closer. In the cold winter air, their hot breath swirled between them as they broke apart. "Can I do that in there?" he whispered.

"I don't know," she bit her kiss swollen lip before continuing. "I thought we were just going with the friends thing. Remember, no explanations?"

"I think it's pretty self-explanatory, really," he teased. He rubbed her bottom lip with his thumb and she smiled. "Because we _are _friends...friends who like kissing..." He moved in toward her again too a gentle nip at the lip she'd just been chewing on.

"Um..." the door opened widely, revealing a tall, brown haired man who looked just like Elena. With a devilish smirk and his hands in the air like he'd just been in a stick-up, he backed away cautiously. "What the hell?"

"Oh, Jeremy. Uh...yeah..." Elena pulled herself together, touching her cheeks with her free hand as she walked through he door holding Damon's hand. "Jere, this is Sergeant Damon Salvatore," she mentally slapped herself as her nerves were audible. "And this is my not-so-baby-brother, Jeremy."

The men locked eyes cautiously before Damon dropped Elena's hand and extended his to her brother. "Thanks for letting me crash tonight," he smiled gratefully as he was met with Jeremy's grip. "Had a last minute change of plans and your sister was kind enough to invite me so I wouldn't be alone on the holiday. I hope you don't mind."

Jeremy nodded once and released his hand after shooting his sister a teasing smile. "Do I mind you kissing Elena on my front porch? Hell no," he slapped the guy on the soldier. "Come on it. This is going to be even better than I thought," He pushed the door open and backed his way inside. "Mom, come here. You've got to see this. Aliens have taken over Elena's body and made her normal."

Damon squeezed Elena's hand as they walked into a warm, delightful smelling home.

"Oh, Elena's home?" Miranda asked from the other room, her voice getting louder with each step toward them. "I was just telling Matt that we should do a little something different this year..."

Miranda Gilbert's mouth went from small O to huge grin in two seconds flat when she caught a glimpse of Damon. Her eyes widened in shock and thrill as she turned to Elena. But before she could squeal or say anything overly embarrassing, Damon piped up.

"Damon Salvatore," he smiled charmingly and extended his hand toward hers. "I hope you don't mind me crashing the party. Something came up and I had nowhere to go. Your daughter was kind enough to invite me."

"Of course not," she couldn't hide her smile...not like she'd tried very hard. "We don't shake hands in this house," she wrapped her arms around him and he felt a rush of peace and warmth run through him. "Any friend of Elena's is a friend of this family."

"Damon's a sergeant on Elena's base," Jeremy added and Miranda's eyes went to the name Salvatore on his duffel bag.

"How _lovely_!" Her mother clapped her hands together with a wide grin.

"Guys, chill out," Elena swallowed. Damon ran a hand down the length of her hair, sensing her nerves and she gave him a small smile. "Let him get inside before you start with the twenty questions."

"Elena?" A deep voice called out from the top of the stairs. A blond man raced down them, right past Damon, and pulled Elena into a tight embrace. "Welcome home." Damon watched the blue eyed man lift her off the ground, pulling her hand out of his.

The man continued, "I missed you...even if you are just a little upstate. You should come home more often, you know." He set her down carefully and Damon felt the kick of jealousy stirring in his stomach. Well that was new. She'd neglected to inform him there'd be an eager man waiting for her at home. From the look on this guy's face, it seemed he'd planned on having some quality time with Elena.

Elena took a breath and cleared the awkwardness out of her throat.

"Okay," she said more so to herself than anyone in particular. "Damon, this is Matt Donavan. He's my best friend from high school." She paused and waited for the tension between the men to snap. "And this is Damon Salvatore."

They waited for a moment in case she had anything more to add to his title, but she fell silent. The men locked eyes cautiously but shook hands. The hurt was clear in Matt's eyes when Elena wrapped her arm through Damon's again and pressed her head against the side of his arm.

She'd been right when she said they'd be surprised. She might not be one to come out and say it, but she wanted her family and friend to know Damon was important. And hell, maybe he was more important he'd originally thought. They were acting like he'd worked some miracle just by holding her hand.

"Well, this is interesting," Jeremy cleared his throat. "Who wants alcohol?" He clapped his hands together and grabbed a bottle of cranberry wine off the counter.

"Please," Elena nodded and bumped her shoulder into Damon and looked up at him with a smile in her eyes. He bent down and whispered in her ear. "This is as awkward as your promised," his eyes darted up to Matt quickly and back down to hers and she blushed.

"Sorry," she smiled and he shook his head and snuck a kiss when he thought no one was looking. When they parted, he felt a pair of weak blue eyes burning a hole in his cheek.

Jeremy interrupted with two full glasses of wine and a shit-eating grin on his face. "A toast," he raised his glass. "To my big sister finally getting a clue," he winked. "And the man brave enough to hold her hand."

Damon smiled against his wine glass when he heard a snort from Matt's direction.

"So...you'll be staying the night, then?" Miranda's eyebrows rose in suggestion. The question was directed at Damon but the answer would come from Elena.

"I told him the guest room would be fine," Here, at home, it seemed her reservations were gone. In a way, he felt the same. It was easier to be himself instead of worrying about who was watching them.

"Come on," she smiled and took his hand. "I'll show you where you can put your stuff."

He swung his duffel over his shoulder and followed Elena up the stairs, carrying his half-empty wine glass in his free hand. She'd been silent on the way up, but once they reached the top and turned into a room at the end of the hall, she let out a sigh and fell backwards on the bed.

When it was just the two of them, they could breathe. Funny how not too long ago it had been the other way around.

"You okay?" His lips turned up as he set his bag down on the bed he assumed would be his. He was surprised to see a twinkle in her eye as she looked back up at him. When she nodded he took it to mean he was invited to sit down by her.

"Sorry about all of that." Her loved the rosy color her cheeks had turned since they'd arrived. He was in no way attributing it to the cold weather. He'd pumped that blood harder through her veins, and he was doing it now.

She tousled her hair and turned on her side to face him. Slowly let himself fall sideways, too, propping himself up on one elbow and nudging her foot with his. "They're nice," he started. "Thought that Matt guy might try to rip my arm off when he saw you holding my hand, though."

"Yeah," she swallowed. "Sorry I didn't mention him. He's..."

"In love with you," he said matter-of-factly. She frowned and he shook his head. "It's obvious."

"We're friends," she clarified.

"That's your answer for everything," He teased, winding his index finger through a twist of her hair. She'd worn it down for a change and he wasn't used to it being so touchable. It was like feathers between his fingers and he couldn't get enough.

She slapped him playfully in the chest and sighed again. "Things with Matt are slightly more complicated than that, but I'm sure you don't want to know all the gruesome details," she cringed but he raised his eyebrows in interest.

"I think I can handle it," he assured her.

"I slept with him," she said the words so quickly he wasn't sure he'd heard her right. He blinked a few times and she continued, easing him. "A long time ago, right after I'd signed the paperwork and joined the army. We were young and I wanted to just get it over with...but it was stupid," she shook her head. "I loved him as a friend and nothing more. Now he's stuck in some perpetual LaLa land probably thinking I'll wake up and realize it was the best decision of my life."

"Damn," he said, ending it with a smirk. "You really are all business."

"Go figure," she nudged him back. "Anyway, like I said, we're friends. I still care a whole hell of a lot about him. He's been there for me through a lot. When I signed all that paperwork, I just kept thinking, what if I die? What if I die without experiencing some of the biggest moments in life? But now I look back and it and realize I probably rushed and ruined on of the biggest moments in my life. It wasn't special other than the fact that it was with someone I knew and not some random guy at a stupid high school party. I'd never have admitted that to anyone back then and I'm kind of surprised I'm even saying it to you now."

He smiled and it gave her the courage to keep going. He wanted to be the sounding post it seemed for so long she'd been without.

"Anyway, if I could go back I would. It really kind of messed things up between us. No matter how many times I come right out and tell him that I really only want to be friends, he dismisses it as my chronic indecisiveness and tells me he'll wait til I'm ready."

"So I guess you showing up with me in tow is a pretty big hiccup in his plan then," his fingers left her hair and walked down her chest to her stomach. He inched beneath her shirt until his fingertips touched her warm skin and a chill sped through her body. All this talk of mistake-sex had him thinking about how much of a mistake it wouldn't be if they ever got there.

"Don't worry about it," she assured him. "I'm here with you," she poked him playfully above the heart and leaned in to peck his lips. "I'm not trying to be mean to him, but we're 26-years-old. The sex...it was 8 years ago, and it's time he sees that it's not going to happen again."

He wanted to ask her if it had really been just once...if it had really been eight years since she'd had a man, but he couldn't bring himself to ruin the moment. The connection buzzing between them wasn't created just by the physical touching; she was sharing something of herself with him that she hadn't shared with anyone else. Feelings. And damn it if that wasn't sexy.

When her big brown eyes turned hungry, he pulled his hand away and told himself there was no fucking way he was starting things up with her family waiting for them downstairs.

"We should get back down there," he suggested, pulling himself up to stand. He reached for her hand to pull her off the bed as well, handing her the wine glass she'd set down on the dresser when they'd entered. They finished their drinks in a few swallows and headed out the door.

"That's my room," she said pointing to the door across the hall from the one he'd be staying in. "Or my old room, I guess."

"Can I see it?" He wiggled his eyebrows, hungry to get a taste of what the younger Elena had liked. Were there still posters of teenage movie-stars on her walls? Maybe she'd been obsessed with glow-in-the-dark unicorns. So when she opened her door to reveal nothing more than plain white walls with a few pictures hung on the wall he felt a little disappointed. He had nothing to tease her about and he had nothing to tell him about the little girl she'd been. No happy little girl would've slept with a boy just to get it over with. He just couldn't get past it.

"It isn't much. I have a lot packed up now because I'm never here, but I still keep a few things. Anyway, I just wanted you to know where I'd be in case you needed anything tonight."

If that wasn't an invitation he wasn't sure he'd ever heard one. The smile on his face was glorious and obvious and she knew him well enough by then to roll her eyes before had even had time to make a snarky comment.

"Come on. Let's just go back down," she took his hand and started down the steps.

"So you never answered my question before we were interrupted." She stopped in place and turned back to look at him. "Am I allowed to kiss you here?"

"My family seems to like you. Let's not get carried away on the first day, okay? It's not because I don't want to."

"So it's Matt, then," he said seriously.

"No...it's everything," she shrugged. "I just think the original plan is good. Friends. It's better if we just stick with that and let them think what they think."

"But it's a lie," he frowned. "Isn't it? I mean you were all over me down there before. Don't you think they'll put two and two together and realize we've been up here a lot longer than it takes for me to put my duffel in my bedroom?"

"If they do, they do. I'm not going to be the one to tell them and neither are you."

"Why?" He frowned.

"Because I don't want to hurt them." The words snapped out of her mouth quick enough to shut him up. "I can't promise anyone anything, not even myself. I'm sorry."

He let her words swirl in his head long enough to realize she hadn't meant it as an insult, then took a breathe and stepped toward her. "It's fine. No explanations, right?"

And so after a wild game of Euchre and a few glasses of wine, Damon Salvatore had found himself a few more people to care about in the world. He'd fallen into step with her brother easily, digging for any information he could get on what embarrassing things Elena had done as a child. Miranda had been kind, and if she was as overexcited as Elena claimed she was, she hid it well. Her smiles were more genuine than the ones his mother had given him...though he hadn't seen her since he'd been a child.

Matt hung around until about 11 p.m., when the rest of them were about to turn in for the night. With a full belly of wine and pie, Damon headed up the stairs. He left his bedroom door open a crack so he could hear her if she tried to sneak over. About midnight he'd heard the shower run next door for about 10 minutes, and when it turned off, he held his breath until she'd passed his room and pushed into her own. He wondered if she'd been dressed or just wearing a towel, and told himself he was too pent up for his own good. Since starting this "thing" with Elena Gilbert he hadn't touched another female. Things with Daphne had come to a screeching halt the moment Elena's eye started twinkling at him. And it would stay that way, even if it meant he was sitting up in bed like a hormonal teenager thinking of what the hell she slept in at night.

The night passed slowly and she never came to see him. He woke up with an arm slung over a cold pillow and a wine hangover. His mouth was cotton as he stretched out of bed, and he'd need at least a few swallows of water before he could even think of doing anything else. He sent a silent thank you to the traditions of the US Army that he couldn't possibly have bed-head as he ran into Elena in the hallway. But he ran his hand over his short hair anyway, because he couldn't think of anything better to do.

"Morning," he sent her a little wave. "How you feeling?"

"Okay," she blinked at his with eyes that looked dry and miserable. After a few seconds he realized she'd been staring at his bare chest."You?"

"Meh," he shrugged, stretching again just to show off his muscles. As if she hadn't seen them. "Been worse."

"Did you sleep okay?"

_Hell no. I was waiting for you_.

"I'm a restless sleeper," he admitted. "Always have been. The room was great, though."

"Okay, good," she flattened her hair out and his lips twitched, unable to stifle a grin. Once he got over the fact that he was talking to her with morning breath, he realized he was face-to-face with morning Elena and it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. Hungover or not, she looked at him with a sleep gaze, standing before him in her shorts and razorback tank top.

"Mom's probably got the coffee on by now. I heard her up around 5 throwing the turkey in the oven. I always tell her she really doesn't need to go to all the trouble. We're older now and we'd be okay with something smaller. I should probably get dressed and see if I can help her."

"You know, I could help, too," he shrugged. "Or help your brother if he needed anything."

"Sure," she smiled at him. "We'll see." She pressed a kiss to his cheek before heading back into her room. "I was thinking about what happened last night. I wasn't trying to blow you off or anything. I just thought we were going to stick with the plan."

"Yeah. It's fine," he said, but it really wasn't. He'd thought he could go home with her and pretend to be the random friend. He thought he could sit next to her at the table or sleep across the hall from her without it being a big deal. But being so close to her in this setting was screwing with his brain. There, away from the base in a real, warm home with family pictures and memories he'd never been a part of make him ache for a different life.

He hadn't gotten close to Elena to second guess his decisions in life. He'd joined the military because it was the right thing for him to do. He had no one. No one. And now suddenly, he had a someone...even if she couldn't admit it. The way she looked at him since they'd gotten there told him that he was her someone, too.

The Gilbert Thanksgiving Day went off without a hitch, as always. Jeremy stood up and said something about how grateful he was that Elena was back in the States and safe. Matt had shown up for a few hours after his own family's meal and said something about the Gilbert family being like his family, too. It sure fell a lot like he was trying to stake his claim, but Damon brushed it off when he felt Elena's hand sneak onto his kneed under the table.

After rounds one and two with the turkey and sides, they was paid a visit by the Tryptophan fairy and felt themselves fading in random couches and chairs in the living room. Matt was gone and Jeremy was propped up in a recliner in a position Elena said was identical to the way her father used to rest. She'd fallen asleep against Damon's chest, her hair splayed out across his t-shirt and one arm tucked around his back to meet the other around his middle. He was comfortable but he wasn't positive he'd fallen asleep until he startled awake by a sound in the kitchen. He pressed a kiss to the top of Elena's head and settled her against a pillow, sneaking out to check on Miranda, who'd busied herself with dishes after their meals.

Damon snagged a dish towel off the counter and started in on the pile of bowls and plates sitting on the counter.

"You don't need to do that, honey," Miranda assured him. "Really, go relax."

"I don't mind," he smiled at the look of appreciation in her eyes. He didn't know her father, but he was certain, in this moment, that Elena was much like her mother in that she didn't like to ask for help or admit she needed it. "It's the least I can do for barging in like this without notice."

"You're welcome anytime. I hope you know you're pretty important. My daughter isn't one to bring men home like this. I don't know what's going on with you and I won't ask, but it's been awhile since I've heard her laugh like she has today and last night and something tells me you're the reason for it. So if anyone owes anyone anything, I think I owe you a thanks."

He nodded, overwhelmed. Speeches like that hadn't ever come from his own parents and it was nice to feel appreciated, though he'd promised Elena he'd keep his mouth closed and therefore couldn't really divulge any feelings for fear she'd get upset.

"Your mother must've taught you well," she smirked, eyeing him drying the dishes thoroughly.

"No ma'am," he said softly. "I'm proud to say I taught myself." He didn't have the heart to tell her his mother was hardly a good example.

And after dishes and light conversation, they found themselves in the dark again, lying alone in their beds across the hall from each other like a couple of teenagers who didn't know what the hell they were supposed to do. And it was funny, he thought, because he'd always known what to do. Things were different with Elena, and not just because she was a blunt about stuff like that. She was special, and not in the way guys always claim the girl they like is 'special' just to get them in bed or because they can't come up with a better way to describe their feelings. No, she really was different. Locked inside that strong woman was a fragile heart and he wasn't going to push it.

If they were really just about sex he'd have been across the hallway the night before and he wouldn't have had to imagine what she looked like when she slept in her bed. He'd be tired for a different reason and that bedhead she'd been sporting that morning would've been a whole lot crazier.

His eyes swung to the alarm clock on the nightstand next to him at about 3 a.m. And he would've stayed put and told himself to shut the hell up and go to sleep, but the crack he'd left in his door let him in on a small conversation he probably wasn't meant to hear.

"I've missed you," the familiar voice said. "We should spend some more time together."

"I can't, okay?"

"Because of him?" The voice said louder. It took Damon a minute to realize the voice on speaker phone and not actually in Elena's room. He breathed a sigh of relief but tuned in more closely.

"Soldier boy's got in your head and you've suddenly forgotten about us."

"Don't call him that," she said seriously. "And it's not because of Damon. It's 3 o'clock in the fucking morning. Can we please not argue about this right now? I'm tired, Matty."

Damon crept into the hallway, hearing the frustration in her voice. He stared at her through the crack she'd left in her door, until she locked eyes with him and got off her bed. "Look, I have to go," she said into the speaker phone. "I'm sorry we got into it, but I just need you to understand. We're friend and friends don't do this."

"Fine," he said and the tone of his voice reminded Damon of a child who hadn't gotten his way. He hung up the phone and Elena rose to meet Damon by the door.

"Sorry I woke you," she frowned. "I can't believe he called at 3 a.m.," her arm flew up into the air in exasperation. "I only had it on speaker because I'm too tired to hold it."

"It's fine. I was awake anyway," he swallowed when she walked into his arms with a hug. He pressed a kiss onto the top of her head, as he had so many times before, the act feeling more normal than a lot of things these days. "Everything okay?"

"Yes and no," she smiled. "Same shit, different day. Don't worry. I'm fine. You can go back to bed and I'll see you in the morning."

He stayed put, his feet planted firmly on the ground when he shook his head. His chin pressed lightly on the top of her head and she looked up at him, confused. "I can't sleep. I've got so much shit running through my head in there it's driving me crazy."

"I know I told Matt I'm tired, but honestly, I don't think I can sleep either," she yawned and sank back down on her queen sized bed. "You can stay in here with me for awhile, if you want. Plenty of room. I only take up one small corner of the bed and I hardly move in my sleep."

"Really," he said, arching an eyebrow. "I kind of pictured you as a roll-all-over-the-place kind of sleeper. You know, because you like to be in charge of things," he smirked. "Just a guess, though."

She rolled her eyes and pulled the covers up over her legs, propped up on a pillow against her headboard. She patted the spot next to her until he gave in and crawled in a beside her. Instead of heavy, the air felt light. And as reluctant as she was to explain what was going on between them to her family or even him, she hadn't stopped with the little flirting.

She'd told him earlier that she didn't want to hurt her family by telling them about their relationship. It had seemed like an insult at the time, but the more he thought about her personality, the more it made sense. No promises, she'd said. No explanations. But anyone with a set of eyes could see she liked him. She was all over him at dinner, laughing at things he didn't think were that funny, finding excuses to touch him.

It seemed the only person she was truly afraid of hurting was herself if it ended up falling through.

His head buzzed with thoughts of the last two days and more until she spoke up.

"As nice of a time as I had today," she paused. "I'm really glad to just be up here with you." Her admission kickstarted him. If she kept it up, this honesty, he wouldn't be able to hold back his.

"Me too."

"I feel free," she said honestly. And he knew she was serious because a soldier didn't throw that word around lightly. Freedom isn't free. Ever. For her to say she felt free after a day like that was sensational. The tears that had slid down her pretty cheeks at her father's grave were enough to make him want to live forever, just so she'd never cry for him that way. Something told him she would.

He twisted on his side and eyed her a minute before wrapping his arms around her and pulling him against his bare chest. Her fingernails scratched at the hard muscles in his stomach and he grasped her chin between his index finger and thumb and looked her right in the eyes.

"Don't do that if you want me to behave," he warned her with smoldering eyes. She was one to take a dare; his caution only made her wilder. With a devilish smirk she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his stomach, working her way across his lap until she faced him with her hands on each side of his face. Her breath was hot against his lips when she kissed him in her dark bedroom.

"Lena," he kept his hands steady on her back, willing himself to pull away and talk some sense into the both of them before things got out of hand and they did something she'd regret in the morning. "Hey..." he said against her mouth. She broke away from the kiss with flushed cheeks and the sexiest pout he'd ever seen. "Come on, don't look at me like that. I'm trying to be the nice guy here."

"You are a nice guy," she bit her lip and ran her hands through his buzzed hair. "If you weren't, there's no way in hell you'd be in my bed right now."

"You know what I mean, Elena," he cleared his throat softly and stared at her softly. Her big brown eyes melted into two pools of milk chocolate and he nearly forgot what he was about to say. And for whatever reason, he got the strangest vibe of innocence from her. He swallowed back the thought, refocusing on the way her hands had seemed to know what they were doing just moments ago.

"I know what you mean and I know what I'm doing, okay?" She blinked at him. He had to wonder if she really did or was just worked up in the moment. Her lips were fiery when the reconnected with his and he didn't have the strength to try again. With a few more breaths his fingers wound up threw her hair and pulled her down on him harder.

Her skin was hot and damp against his as he moved against her. For the first time in his life, he was looked a woman right in the eye as he held himself above her and pushed himself inside. When she gasped, he gasped. And it went on and on like that, matching each other with gasps and kisses until the feel of her fingernails clawing at his hipbones sent him over the edge.

Afterward, he rolled on his back and stared up at her ceiling, swearing he saw stars inside her very dark bedroom. When they'd caught their breath and come back down to earth, he took a chance and stroked a finger down her pink cheek.

"You okay?" He felt her shaking next to him.

"Fine. You?" She swallowed and turned to face him. Against her soft pillow, she looked like an angel. Her messy hair was spread across her face and he moved it carefully with a smile.

"I didn't come in here to do that," he clarified. "Just so you know...that wasn't my plan. I know I was kind of antsy about the friends thing, but I would've been okay with it."

"I know," she whispered and it sounded broken. Silence hung in the air for a few moments and he'd nearly thought she'd fallen asleep when she took a shot and said the oddest thing. "It was different with you." Her voice flexed with vulnerability, as if a few more words would've made her cry.

Unsure of what to say, he snuck down so they were eye level and watched her carefully. It had been different for him, too. He'd certainly never cared to stay and discuss it afterward with any other woman he'd been with. He stared her big eyes and got to thinking. She was an extremely cautious and defensive person. She hadn't and wouldn't throw caution to the wind for the hell of it. The woman in his arms had given him a gift and he wouldn't pretend it meant nothing.

"For me, too," he said reassuringly.

"And I think I know why. You know how I think," she blinked up at him and his insides twisted nervously for the simple fact that he didn't. He was confused as hell, actually. She could either read his mind or he had one hell of an expression on his face because she laughed lightly.

"I know I don't always say what I feel or what I mean...but I'm not talking about all of that. I'm talking about this. Us. When I was with Matt it just felt all so disappointing. You know, it's supposed to be this earth-shattering thing and I came out of it so many years ago wondering what all the fuss was about. But this," she bit her lip. "I get it now."

"You mean you haven't since?" The question was gentle, not mocking. He was both contented and horrified by the fact that she was still somewhat new to it all.

She shook her head against him and he sighed. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Eight years?" He said. "That's...that's wow. I'm not trying to toot my own horn or anything, but I have to know. Why me and why tonight?"

"Because you get me." She swallowed. "You understand me like no one has ever understood me before. And I trust you."

It was, perhaps, the biggest compliment anyone had ever given him. He wasn't sure the last time a woman had said that to him. It might've been his Mom so long ago, but how much trust can you put in a little boy? He would hang onto those words for dear life and he'd remember them in some of his darkest hours. There'd come a day, not too long in the future, when he'd need that promise more than anything else in the world.

The world was a peaceful, perfect place for the few solid hours they'd slept. He woke at 6 a.m. to the feel of her back against his chest and the rest of him stirred awake all too quickly. Raising himself up to kiss the tops of her bare shoulders, she woke slowly with a smile he swore he'd remember forever. And as they started up again his theories were confirmed. It wasn't just a one time thing with her; one hit could never be enough.

"So what's the answer...hm?" He kissed her wildly. "Can I kiss you in front of your family now?"

They were so caught up in the moment they didn't even hear the door open. He didn't hear the loud, angry footsteps marching toward her bed. It wasn't until Elena gasped and sat up quickly that Damon snapped out of his trance enough to feel the arm yanking his shoulder backwards right before a fist hit him square in the jaw.

**Present Day - Thanksgiving Day afternoon **

Elena sat on the couch next to him, her shoulder touching his lightly. Miranda had asked her to keep any eye on the oven while she ran an errand, which Elena was pretty sure was code for _I'm giving you alone time_. And she could appreciate it, because there was nothing quite like being alone with Damon Salvatore in this house. It gave them time to recall some of the highlights of their time together.

"The look on Matt's face was priceless. And you...you didn't even see it coming,"

"It didn't even hurt," Damon said with a small smile, leaning back against the couch as he stared at the picture in his hands. "It was more shock than pain. Guy had some balls to punch a soldier."

"Okay," she smiled brightly, enjoying the simple moment passing between them. Soon it would be back to reality. Back to bad memories and unanswered questions. Back to the unknown.

"Life was good back then," he said flatly. "So good."

"It's good now," her tone was bright and hopeful but she feared no matter how she said it he'd never be convinced. "Aside from the obvious, it's really good now." She reached for his hand and he let her take it but didn't wrap his fingers around it. Under her touch he was shaking, tapping his hand against his knee as if he had some horrible secret he was dying to reveal. And for all she knew, he probably did.

"Would you like some water?"

"No," he snapped and she cringed.

"Just tell me what's going on," she plead, the desperation evident in her voice. "You can tell me anything..."

"I never meant to say what I did out on the porch. I never meant to ruin that or bring it up...especially not as a dig toward you. I panicked. I started thinking about what it felt like to be here the last time and everything that happened after that. You've got to know that."

"I do," it came out as a whisper. She couldn't bear to talk about it with him at her mother's house. It was better saved for a time when they could be alone with no chance of interruption. No matter if they talked for hours or days, it would never be enough.

"Those two," she reached up to pull the framed photo of the group at the dinner table so many Thanksgivings ago, "Still have to go through hell. But us? We already made it through to the other side." His shoulders loosened and he ran a hand through his hair once before dropping her hand and plopping down on the couch.

"I know you think you're still in it," she sat down next to him. "That maybe you'll never get out of it." she turned slightly, folding one leg under her, her knee bumping into his thigh. "And maybe _this_ hell is worse because everything you stayed alive for ends up actually hurting more..."

"Are we talking about me or you?" He asked softly, surprising her.

"We're talking about us," she clarified. "Us now...not us then..."

This was absolutely not the way he'd wanted to do this.

"In my head, when I was over there, I knew what I wanted. It was the same thing I wanted before I left. You. Us. I wanted a normal life where we didn't have to worry about one of us being shipped off. I stayed alive to come home to you, Elena."

She felt a sob rising in her chest as he continued. "And then on the plane ride home, all I could do was stare at my stump. Amazing how ten seconds can change your life. I went from a strong, whole man who was ready to do anything to get you to answer my proposal to a man who couldn't look himself in the eye in the mirror without wanting to die."

"I don't care about your leg," she said, touching it and he tensed. "That came out wrong. Of course I care. I wish it hadn't happened, but everything happens for a reason, right? Just like you were deployed on that day for a reason. You lived for a reason. I lived for a reason. Maybe that reason is today. The world isn't done with us, clearly."

"I killed people," he said seriously, as if it were news to her.

"You had to," she ran her hand along his leg. "It was duty."

"No," he shook his head quickly and frowned. "I killed my own men."

She felt the color drain out of her face and that kick of adrenaline rushing through her veins.

"I let them walk right into something and I ran the other way," he admitted. "I was their superior. I was supposed to keep them safe, go down with the ship, so to speak. If anything I should've run into it and told them to go the other way. I knew they had families and I didn't. But all I could see was you. All I could hear was you screaming for me to help you while you lie there, bleeding, panicking that you were losing the baby and...fuck, Elena...you have no idea..."

"I'm so sorry," her knee bounced and a tear slid down her cheek.

"No, I'm sorry, because years later I still can't bring myself to talk about it. And I haven't had some big revelation or anything like that, so..."

"I'm still just sorry," was all she could manage. All those big dreams she used to have of going to war just seemed crazy now.

"Not your fault," he heaved a sigh.

"It isn't yours, either. You did what your gut said to do, and frankly, I'm glad," her eyes burned with sincerity.

He frowned. "For as long as I can remember you've been all about honor and duty and doing the right thing. I did the complete opposite of that for selfish reasons. I wasn't thinking about their lives or their families at all. In my head, I was less than a month away from coming home to a woman I loved. I was spacy. I was thinking of how the hell I was going to get you to say yes when the truth was, I wasn't even positive you wanted all of that. I got to thinking...maybe it was all for nothing."

Her stomach clenched. Now probably wasn't the best time to admit she would've said yes this time around. She was grateful he'd shared what he had with her and it was never easy to see when his small window of emotion would close and she'd be left out in the cold again.

She wiped a stray tear away and mentally cursed at herself for falling apart like this. Where was her strength? Where was her support as he stared down his past? She couldn't see it or feel it through the beating of her selfish heart.

And he was crazy to think he was the selfish one. Hadn't he always be honest with her? She'd been the one holding back, lying, pretending, fighting it, if only a little, until it was too late. If anyone was selfish, it was her. And while it might be too late, she had to be honest now.

"I was in love with you," she whispered through an achy throat. "It wasn't for nothing."


	9. Count Me In

**A/N: I'm happy it only took a week to get an update out this time. So, as you know, this is the second half of Thanksgiving. We've got scenes from present and 2008, along with a lot of Damon perspective and some big revelations by both of them. We're starting out on a happy note for a change, so there's that. **

**I'm really enjoying doing work from Damon's POV because we've spent so much time seeing things as Elena sees them. I want to paint a whole picture, and hopefully it's getting there.**

**I chose "Count Me In" by Early Winters for this chapter. **

**Thanks again to all my readers/reviewers. I really do appreciate the time you take and have taken to let me know what you think. :-) **

**Through The Ghost**

**Chapter 8: Count Me In**

* * *

**The Day after Thanksgiving - 2008**

"Don't you know how to fucking knock, man?" He tasted blood on his lips and swiped it away with the side of his hand. Matt was staring at him, as if he dared him long enough, he might just back down. The hilarity of the situation dawned on him and his bloody lip turned up into a smile.

"Friends," Matt snorted, spotting the pile rumbled clothes on the floor. "Yeah, I can see how good of friends you are." His cold stare locked on Damon and he said, "Don't get too used to it."

The words dripped from his lips like freezing rain and traveled across the warm bed into Elena's chest. The hunger in her eyes was gone, replaced with horror. And because she'd shared that tiny bit of info on their past, he knew exactly what Matt was trying to say. _Don't get too used to it because she's gonna drop your ass and pretend like it never happened._

There was a good possibility that when the weekend was over she'd freak out and change her mind, but that wasn't Matt's business and he certainly didn't have to act like she made a habit of sleeping with all of her guy friends.

"Watch it," he warned, tightening his fist. Self control wasn't a problem for him. Then again, he'd never let himself care about someone else enough that the need to defend them would override his amazing self discipline.

"Can you please just go?" She said quietly, diverting her attention to her hands, which were rubbing themselves raw on top of the soft white sheet. Damon settled back against the headboard next to her and stared Matt right in the eyes, willing him to just grow a pair and get the hell out of the room before things got uglier and more awkward than they needed to.

Damon didn't say a word until he heard the door click closed. The heavy sigh against his shoulder warned him against making a sarcastic comment. His eyes caught on a mug of steaming hot coffee, which Matt must have set down before he took the time to rip Damon out of bed and introduce fist to face.

"Are these early morning drop-ins a normal thing when you visit?" He arched an eyebrow. He was half kidding, half not. He was still reeling from the ugly words Matt had dropped on Elena. He'd degraded her, but if it had hurt her feelings, it wasn't visible on her face.

"No. It's you," she said, sitting up finally and wrapping her arms around her knees under the blankets. She rested the right side of her face on her knees and let her fall down to her shins. When she blinked up at him, he nearly lost it. "You know he's down there right now, blabbing to Jeremy and Mom about what he walked in on. We're 26, but I swear sometimes you wouldn't know it. Guess that's what I get for never bringing guys home when I was younger."

She focused on the clock and a whole new wave of frustration rolled through her. "I was hoping to stay in bed for another few hours and now I'm just pissed." Her hand slapped against the comforter. "He's acting like a child. We were practically kids! He's a great friend; he just can't stand that I'm with someone else now, but I never promised him a thing."

He waited quietly until she'd expelled every last thought, but got stuck on _I'm with someone else_ and had trouble comprehending the rest. When she crashed back into her cold pillow, he was right there waiting.

"Come here," he said sweetly, folding his warm arms around the front of her shoulders and drawing her against his chest. She settled between his legs with the back of her head against his Adam's apple. When he swallowed, she tipped her head backward and looked up at him and smiled.

"I'm sorry I'm still talking about it. I just can't believe he'd throw that in my face. I mean, it's true. I never led him to believe we were more than friends. I did sleep with him, but it was a mistake." she admitted, shaking her head. "I can never tell him that. It would hurt him."

"So you let him bring you coffee this early and call you in the middle of the night? Ever think you might be leading him on a little?"

"No. That's just how we are," she shrugged. "The way he acted just now is what surprises me. He's a good guy, Damon, really. He hasn't made a pass at me in years."

She said it calmly, as if it hadn't completely registered but her shoulders were tense against him until he kissed them. Soon her words sounded like melting chocolate; velvety, smooth, the kind a thing a guy got addicted to without realizing it. "But he's wrong about it, you know. This isn't the same at all." She bit her lip and left it at that, as if she just expected him to understand what she meant.

He could've gone with his gut and let her know what he really thought of the guy. He was a jealous idiot who was never, ever going to get over her. In the two days he'd known him, it had become obvious that they only way to convince him to let her go was to shock the living shit out of him...which they'd just so happened to do a good job of a few minutes ago.

But there had to be some reason she kept the guy around; it was wise to stay neutral until he got a better feel on the situation.

"You're okay. Hurt or not, he had no right to say that," he assured her, running a hand down the length of the messy hair spread across the front of her bare shoulders. "You know I wanted to hit him back, right?"

"Yeah," she smirked.

"Good. It's like you said. We're adults. This is our business. All that matter is how we feel, right?" This was it. He was giving her an opening, a chance to admit feelings. But instead of something big and unforgettable, she just said,

"It's too early in the morning for this." And the moment passed.

"Yeah." It was the best he could do to salvage a little dignity in order to get himself going for the day. He wasn't asking for promises; it just would've been nice to know if they'd be doing this again. "So...how awkward is this going to be when we go downstairs? Do we save face and walk down separately so they think Matt made the whole thing up? Or do we go down there together with big, crazy grins on our face and own the shit out of this situation?"

"You're funny," she said simply with a smile, and the words embraced him.

"Great. So which is it?" He threw the covers off himself and stood up to pull his boxers on. A laugh escaped his chest and he waved a hand in front of her face when he caught her staring. "Lena," he said loudly. "Which is it?"

"Uh," she smiled. "I say we go down there together, but keep the cocky glances to a minimum. We'll just do like we always do and hope they have the decency to not ask questions. I mean, if I were Mom, I wouldn't _want_ to know."

He wiggled his eyebrows and tugged his sweatpants on as she rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay. Works for me," he shrugged and pressed a kiss on her cheek. "Just real quick, though. What's going to happen when we get back home?"

"What do you mean?" The blink she gave him couldn't be from confusion. She was clearly stalling.

"You. Me. This," he tipped his head back to her messy bed and grinned. "I mean now that you're too pissed off to enjoy yourself, do I get a raincheck or is this one of those what-happens-at-mom's-house-stays-at-mom's-house things?"

In a way, he was asking the same thing Matt had suggested. One time. End of story. So get over it already. It would be so much easier if she'd just clue him in.

"Guess we'll see," she bit her lip before quirking it up in a smile. "Okay, so which looks more incriminating? Me in pajamas or a freshly showered me?" She blinked, innocently and he let out a laugh. She brought a wave of hair up to her nose and sniffed carefully; her smile through the dark strands of hair was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. "I smell like you. Your cologne."

"Let me see," he smiled and picked her hair up loosely in his hands, twisting it between his fingers twice before pushing it to the side and kissing her neck. "I like it."

"Me too," she said quickly.

"And let's face it; they already know. Like you said, he's probably down there sobbing in his sugary coffee. Come to think of it, we should really just stay up here for awhile until everyone's kind of over it. Another few hours and we'll be old news."

"You're full of it, you know that?" She smirked, running a brush through her messy hair and twisting it up into a bun. "Get a shirt on and let's get this over with. I'll do the talking."

* * *

**Present Day – Thanksgiving**

It was a good thing she took her medicine that morning; a thousand tiny percussionists were pounding the hell out of her heart. And it felt good...really, really good to finally say those words out loud. It was a shame he hadn't heard them when he'd needed them the most. Now instead of a big, bright happy declaration, it was nothing more than a _by the way. _It did nothing for the present...or so she thought.

"I loved you so much that I couldn't handle it." She hardly heard the words leave her lips.

"I know," he said softly, blinking at her.

"I wanted to tell you. But you know how I am...was," she corrected herself. "I was a fool to keep us from really being happy and I'm sorry. Everything I believed in was wrong."

He shook his head and looked at his hands.

"Funny how the truth comes out when it's too late," he smirked but she failed to see anything funny about the situation. He'd always been one to smile when he was uncomfortable. But now she knew; he thought their time had passed. He couldn't see through the darkness yet. "I told myself you did because I had to believe it. I needed something to keep me going over there."

_I've got a wife and a baby on the way back home_. He remembered telling one of the guys from a different platoon. It had been a terrible lie; what he really had at home was a girlfriend on anxiety medication and a whole lot of sad memories. After awhile the lies had started to feel real. It was a damn shame he couldn't ever tell her that; if she'd known how badly he'd really wanted that child she'd probably go off the deep end again. They'd focused on the pain more than the loss, but years later he still felt so empty. The hollow look in her eyes at the mention of the baby earlier had him believing she still blamed herself for what happened.

"Thanks for letting me tell you now," she said and he nodded. "And for sharing a little of yourself. I know it doesn't change anything about what you went through. I just wanted you to know."

"I'm really glad you came with me today," She asked with a smile, folding each leg under the other until she sat like a pretzel beside him on the soft couch. It was time to change the subject before her Mom got home an found a raccoon in her place; her eyeliner had already started to run. "I know this is weird. It's weird for me, too. But you can be yourself around them. We can be ourselves."

"You want to eat turkey next to a crabby ass like me right now?"

"Yes." She said without hesitation. "And you're not that crabby because you're joking around with me," her eyes widened to prove a point when he smiled. "See?"

The door burst open and a pair of bright orange rubber boots clomped through the foyer into the living room. Damon was met with a pair of sparkling blue eyes and a head of brown curls, much like Elena's. The boots stomped off snow about a foot in front of Damon and she said, "Uncle Damon?"

The hamsters in his head worked hard as as struggled to comprehend what the small child had said. How long had they been referring to him as Uncle Damon? Surely she'd seen the picture on the wall. Had they always talked about him or was it just because he was back? He swallowed and mustered up the courage to smile.

"You must be Izzy," he said as she pulled off her purple hat and threw it on the ground. Her coat was unzipped and tossed the side a minute later and she climbed up onto Elena's lap and nuzzled her head into her neck.

"Hi, baby," she tucked her hair behind her tiny ears and smiled. "Ready to eat a lot of good food?" She nodded and let out a small giggle, causing Damon's heart to leap in his chest at the sights and sound of it all.

He'd pictured it so many times when he'd fallen asleep. Elena holding their baby girl, reading her stories, telling her how brave her daddy was...and how she'd finally get to meet him when he came home from war. And maybe it would've been a boy, but it would've been fine either way. Because if even if he'd gotten home and found out Elena didn't want to marry him, he'd still have someone to love him and to love in return. That baby would've been proof of the great love they'd once shared. Time, distance and combat could never change that.

"It's good to see you, man," Jeremy said as Damon stood up from the couch. He slapped a hand on his back and shook his hand firmly. "Thanks for coming with her."

"Thanks for having me," he said respectfully, noticing the sincerity in her brother's voice. Guess she'd been right when she told him they wouldn't judge him or look at him like he was a disease for sending her away two years ago.

He introduced his wife, April, and talked a little about how crazy Izzy had been on the car ride in. He was good at diffusing the tension; always had been. Miranda returned from her spontaneous errand run with nothing more than a bag of plastic cups and a knowing smile.

"That was your big errand?" Elena eyed the cups.

"They were out of everything else. That's what I get for running out the day of the holiday. Crazy lines!" she said quickly. "So we'll just have to make do."

Soon the food was on the table and they were all in the chairs they'd sat in so many years ago. Izzy and April squeezed next to each other where Matt had sat, and Damon was glad for the replacement. He didn't have the energy to throw and pity parties when he was busy throwing his own. Thankfully, no one said a word about Matt's absence.

Miranda popped the cork off a bottle of wine and took out 4 glasses from the cabinet. Damon and his eyes flicked to Elena. She really hadn't told them anything about him. He shouldn't be shocked; she'd told him he could trust her. It was time to start putting more faith in her.

He'd been sober for so long before his meltdown after seeing Elena again. He'd always wanted to take a drink; he'd just been really good at telling himself no. Now it was staring at him in the face laughing, reminding him how much easier the whole day would be if he just gave in.

The warm press of Elena's fingers on his knee snapped him out of it. "I remember how much you loved the cranberry wine last time, Damon. Some for you, too, Elena?"

"Just water for me," she said, her hand tightening on his leg and something warmed inside of him as he realized how supportive she still was.

"And me, actually," he cleared his throat and a rush of ran through him that he would later identify as pride. "Water would be great."

He felt her bump his knee with hers and looked up into big, happy pools of brown. Maybe he could still do the right thing. It was all about willpower and the desire to change. It was all he'd been barking about since he'd returned. He didn't have to be all talk. He could do whatever he wanted. The whole possibilities are endless speech ran through his head, and for a minute, he felt a little free.

"So Damon, Elena tells me you're starting a new job in a few weeks," Miranda said.

"Yes ma'am," he wiped his mouth with his cloth napkin and fussed with it on his lap to get it back in place. Elena's hand was still there, warm and terrifying. Her free hand worked stacks of turkey into her mouth. The simplicity of his calmed him. "I'll be starting at the bookstore down the street from my apartment on Tuesday. Simple work but something I know. A buddy of mine from Chicago bought the place. We, uh, ran a business together while I was down there so this is kind of a second shot. Guy needed a change as much as I did."

He loosened his tie and cleared his throat, upset with himself for bringing Chicago up at all. It would be so good to have Alaric near again. Maybe then he wouldn't have to pile _all_ of his shit on Elena.

"That sounds lovely. I remember when Elena was a child she loved to run down to the bookstore by our house. She'd sit for hours trying to read as many books as she could until I had to carry her out, kicking and screaming. She was a little monster."

Damon's heart actually leapt; hearing stories about her never got old. Even if he was a mess. Even if he was just an old, dear friend now instead of the man she was going to fall in love with. The loneliness in Iraq was nothing compared to what he'd felt before he'd met Elena. He hardly deserved it, but the Gilbert's had a warm, genuine way of making him feel like he still belonged.

"I can believe that," he said with a small smile as he took a sip of his water. The playfulness in Elena's eyes as they sparkled up at him felt familiar. He almost felt safe. He almost felt happy.

Miranda told stories in a way that so few could; she blazed with affection when she talked about her children in a way he'd only dreamed his mother would. He didn't need to be praised every day; it just would've been nice every now and then.

Not that he was whining or anything, but it was kind of hard to build self-esteem as a kid when he was the only one telling himself he was a good person, that he would and could do something great one day...that he wasn't a mistake at all, and his life had a purpose that one day would become beautifully obvious.

After awhile he'd started to think his purpose was the serve in the military, and to a certain degree, he still believed it. Nothing else had really gone his way before he enlisted. And because he hated sharing feelings with people, he flipped that coin, telling himself heads meant he'd been right. He just hadn't thought about the aftermath? What happens when it ends? Would he get a new purpose or would that just be it?

So it was a good thing he'd decided about mid-way through Thanksgiving weekend with Elena so many years ago, that people were sometimes given more than one purpose.

The ghost he'd become wasn't born simply out of the terrifying things he'd seen overseas; it was an inner battle of purposes. He'd come to a crossroads in that cave two years before and felt forced to choose. Which was his greater purpose? His duty, his men, his country...or loving Elena?

He couldn't believe Elena had been thrown into his life as a test or complication, So he ran. He ran fast and wild, as if he tried hard enough he could run all the way back to her. He didn't stop until he saw stars, which at the time, felt like Elena's warm embrace pulling him home. Nothing was quite as depressing as being told those stars were from blood loss...that he'd never be running again...but worst of all, that he was still in Iraq and she was still at home.

Losing a foot almost felt like penance for choosing Elena, a way for the universe to say, _okay, I'll let you live, go home to your girl...but when you get there, you'll be too screwed up to do anything about it. _

But still, he knew, deep down, that if he'd turned right instead of left inside that cave, he wouldn't be sitting at this table. Her hand wouldn't be on his knee right now. He wouldn't be able to finally be looked at, right in the eye, and hear the thing he'd never heard from anyone in his life. He needed to believe, after all these years, that he hadn't chosen wrong because she really had loved him back.

* * *

**The day after Thanksgiving – 2008**

After they'd made their way downstairs that morning, they'd found it incredibly difficult to keep their hands off each other. So they walked until the air was too cold to breathe in anymore and ended up seated up on a hill in a park, watching the neighborhood kids dragging sleds around behind them. There the air was still cold, but clean, and together they found hope.

"I really like them, you know," he said smiling. "Your family, I mean. All that stuff you said about you and your brother doesn't seem right. I thought you got along fine."

"We do. Around holidays, especially. He just thinks he's knows what I want more than I do, and it gets a little annoying sometimes."

"Maybe he just wants you to be happy," he suggested, bouncing a wave of hair away from her lips. "I know I do."

She smiled and looked down a her feet, shaking her head. "You're fishing for hints about what's going to happen after we back to the base."

"What?" He laughed, nudging her shoulder with his. "Okay, maybe. You do a good job of hiding behind this tough, pretty face of yours." He stroked the back of his hand down her cheek. "But I saw you this weekend. And I know that somewhere inside of you, you want to be happy."

She swallowed and he knew he was right. "Just because you thought your life had to be one way doesn't mean you can't be a little surprised every now and then," he continued. "You're serving to honor your Dad. Ask yourself if he'd like how hard you are on yourself."

Maybe it was a harsh blow. He really had absolutely no idea how heavy of a conversation they were about to get into. There was a chance she'd get up, march away and never speak to him again. She didn't.

"I chose what I did because it's my fault he died," she turned to him and said. "I set my house on fire."

He'd never forget the way she'd said it; her eyes were glossy with unshed tears, threatening to freeze over. He waited for her to laugh and say _I'm just kidding, Jesus. Relax_. Then he panicked, because she never did.

"I knew better. I wasn't supposed to touch candles, not even the really good smelling, really pretty ones my mom had just gotten from one of those candle selling parties." She paused as the cold air took over her lungs, causing her to shiver. "Anyway, I didn't listen. I got a lighter and lit all five of the candles sitting on the table by the window. Jere and my Mother weren't home; Dad was, but he slept during the day a lot. I remember I was watching a movie on TV and I got really tired. I must've fallen asleep on the couch because I don't remember it happening. After the paramedics strapped me into an ambulance and told me they needed to take me to the hospital to make sure my lungs were okay, I heard someone say they couldn't find my father."

His chest heaved with sorrow but he couldn't find the words to comfort her before she continued.

"My Dad was a quick guy before the war; the only reason he couldn't leave that house was because he'd lost his legs. When I got older, I heard the neighbors saying he was depressed, that he hadn't tried to get out...that they'd watched him sitting in my parents' room, wide awake...just sitting there not even trying to get out. But I don't believe it for a second," she shook her head. "He'd save me. And he wouldn't let himself die. He didn't come home to die, Damon. He came home to live."

Unable to speak or really breathe, he pulled her onto his lap. She didn't make a sound but he knew she was sobbing from the way her body rose and fell against his. They must've sat there for hours because the little kids were brushing off their coats and hopping into cars, done with their adventures for the day.

"The reason I constantly tug away from everything is because I can't go through that again. I can't let myself love someone that much." Her voice was strained but her eyes were dry. "Not a parent, not a friend, not a man." She looked up at him and he learned what heartache felt like. "Because no matter what I do or how hard I try to stop it, there's just now way to tell when they'll leave."

There comes a point in every person's life when he realizes he's been wrong. Sometimes it hits gradually, unfolding like a piece of paper in a gentle wind. This time, this feeling hit hard and fast.

It wasn't because she was beautiful or tragic or made him feel like a man. It had nothing to do with him loving a challenge or his desire to feel needed. But it was no coincidence that it happened on the same day she'd really opened up to him.

She looked up at him with a rawness he didn't knew existed in the world, and all he could do was kiss her. And even though it went against everything she'd just admitted, she kissed him back wildly, as if wanting to prove herself, and everything she believed in, wrong. So while the rest of the country was out buying impossibly large TVs for ridiculously low prices on the day after Thanksgiving, he sat atop a peaceful snowy hill and fell in love.

* * *

**Present Day – Thanksgiving **

Once their plates were scraped to the bottom and their glasses drained. Miranda brought out her much-loved, much-talked about crumbly cinnamon apple pie. Izzy busied herself across the table with a fork that was too big for her and all Damon could think was how lucky she was to have a whole world of possibilities in ahead of her. It would be nice to know her, to always know these kind, forgiving people. Most of all, it was amazing that they talked to him like the man he used to be instead of the wounded war veteran he was. Maybe they didn't know how bad it was, but if they did, they sure did a good job of keeping things even keeled.

"Want some? It's vanilla." Izzy blinked up at him innocently, pushing her messy, melty pile of ice cream across the table toward him.

He opened his mouth to politely decline when the world slipped out from under him, the tile beneath his feet becoming sand...

The relief he'd been feeling just moments ago was gone and as he mind buzzed _danger, danger _at the sound of a crack outside. The panic lasted only a few seconds before instinct took over. He was good at this. It took him two seconds to pull Elena under the table and press his body against it as a shield against a danger only present to him. As his heart slammed in his chest, he reminded himself what came next.

"Stay quiet. Don't say anything..." he whispered in her ear.

He knew what to do because he'd pictured it so many times. In his nightmares he'd failed. They'd found her, dragged her body away from him and made him watch. He wouldn't fail now. They weren't allowed there, not in his new life. For a brief second he knew what it must feel like every time Elena has a panic attack. He could barely breathe it was so real.

"Look at me," he said, pressing his forehead into hers. "I've got you, baby, okay? They won't hurt you. They only want to hurt _me_..."

It made perfect, real sense to him until she gave him a look dripping with pity and a tear slid down her cheek. He felt like a fool when he saw a little head peeking under the table to ask, "What's the matter with Uncle Damon?"

_Everything, kid. Everything. _

His hallucinations weren't new; he'd just wanted, more than anything in the world, to beat them that day. They weren't just scary stories to tell Elena anymore; he'd just brought her down with him. There was no telling when it would happen next or how. The smallest, softest sound triggered him. He just couldn't believe she wanted a part of any of it.

"Nothing, honey. Just come on back up here, Izzy and leave them be, okay?" Jeremy said softly. It sounded believable to a little kid, he was sure, but Damon could hear the worry and tension in the man's voice. He didn't need to look him in the eye to know what had happened, and that was a good thing, because he didn't think he could if he tried.

And although the present started to feel more real and he was slowly realized nothing that glitters stays gold, he couldn't bring himself to loosen the protective grip he had on Elena. The tears falling out of her eyes were a mirror, reminding him that, even in her arms, he was still so far away.

"Come on, sweetheart," he heard Miranda say to Izzy with a shaky voice. "How would you like to go in the living room and look through old photos of your daddy?"

Soon all he could hear was the ticking of the clock on the wall above the big, kitchen window. His slam back into reality was painful and embarrassing. He took his hands off her slowly and clenched them at his sides, torn between screaming and crying.

He wasn't afraid of himself anymore; he was afraid of what he'd become to her. A broken man, someone to pity, care for out of obligation instead of love. He was the crazy one; the guy everyone's afraid to be themselves with. His eyes were diverted from hers because he was terrified he'd see all that and more; and he just couldn't handle that from the only person he loved in the world.

She wanted things to be different; well, now they were.

"You're okay," her voice was tender and magical for all the wrong reasons, he knew, and it just made it worse.

"Please don't," he shook his head and scooted away from her, ducking his head so he wouldn't hit on the table. Her hands were smooth and familiar as they slid up his arms, pulling him back toward her so he couldn't get away. That was the thing about Elena Gilbert; she could never just let go.

"It was a car backfiring," she said softly. "The neighbors have really old cars. I swear they're the same as when I was growing up. It's a miracle they even pass the emisson test every year."

Her attempt to soften the moment was sweet, but she had to be out of her mind if she thought they'd crawl out from under the table and finish their slices of pie. He met her with an expressionless face until she tipped her head to the side and said, "You don't have to be embarrassed. It's okay."

"No it isn't," he said loudly and she frowned but kept her hands on him. "It gets worse."

"Okay," she said seriously, but he doubted she'd sound so confident if she really knew how bad it got. "You're not going to scare me off, so don't bother trying."

He wondered, then, how a woman like Elena had ended up so whole. The girl he'd left behind was had to put on a brave face to cover the hole the wrecking ball of a miscarriage had left in her heart. She'd promised she wanted to keep it between them, but he would've forgiven her if she would've broken down to her mother. Staring at her now, knowing she hadn't told a soul in the four years that had passed, he wondered how the hell she'd fixed herself. He could hardly remember a time back then, when they were actually together, that she'd looked at him with so much understanding.

His hands fists disappeared into flat planes, pressed into the cold tile floor. He let out a breath of exhaustion, so terribly sick of fighting. "No matter how familiar this all is...the food, the house...I'm not the same guy, Elena. Bringing me here isn't going to bring him back. Do you know where I was just now? Not here," he knocked on the time. "And not here," he pointed to his head. "This is what's normal for me."

"I know." She took her hands off of him and folded them in her lap.

"So why bother?"

"For the same reasons you decided to come home to New York," she said calmly. "I just want to know you." She said nothing else, just looked him in the eye until it became too beautiful and unbearable and he had to look away before he lost it again. After a few more minutes of just sitting there, under the big wooden kitchen table in her mother's home, he was upright and staring out the window toward the house with the beat-up cars.

She rubbed her hands together and brushed off her knees before she walked over to look out the window beside him. Not positive the awkwardness was over, he waited for her to say something first.

"If you want, we can just go," her breath fogged into a circle on the window. "Or we can stay. I'm fine either way."

"This is your family's Thanksgiving. If anyone needs to go, it's me. If I had gone the first time I tried, this would've never happened."

_And I would've never heard you tell me you loved me. And I would've never realized that beyond the shadow of a doubt, you were and always will be my greatest purpose._

"No one's going to say anything," she shook her head. "Seriously."

"They don't have to," he smiled bitterly. "I'll see it in their eyes. It's the same look I get from everyone who knows my story. Poor little Damon Salvatore, desperate to be a part of something until it was actually time to go. Mouthed off about being ready for deployment and war until it actually happened. Didn't start living and loving until it was just too late."

"I don't see you that way." She confirmed. "I was around after you left, you know. I spent my few months on base. And I never heard a single person say anything bad about you. Now maybe it's because they knew I'd punch them if they tried," she snuck in a smile just to ease the conversation a little, "but you've got to know is those men respected the hell out of you."

He was still against the glass, listening carefully. And he felt weak and childish, because all he'd ever wanted was for someone to do just what Elena was doing. Not to patronize him; to remind him he wasn't as alone as he thought.

"I'm sorry to say it, Damon, but I think the only one who thinks of you that way...is you." She swallowed and moved in closer to him. "Look at me." She said firmly and didn't say another word until he'd listened. "Don't be your own enemy."

It was one of those moments he knew he'd never forget, right up there with the moment he'd laid eyes on her, the moment he realized he wanted her forever, and the conversation that told him forever was impossible.

And because he said nothing, she assumed it was better if they just left.

"I think we're just going to go," Elena said with a sad smile as she hugged her mother and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Thank you for having us." _Us_. As if they were a team or something.

Damon pulled his thick coat on and buttoned it closed when he felt a little pair of arms hugging his good leg. "Bye Uncle Damon. Sorry you got scared. Sometimes I get scared, too."

And dammit, didn't that make him feel like a child. Of course she hadn't meant anything by it and he knew that. Still, he decided it was better to not make eye contact with the rest of the bunch as he left. He felt Jeremy slap him kindly on the shoulder and say a "take care" that sounded apologetic. Miranda was gutsy enough to pull him into a strong, silent but reassuring hug.

He held his breath until they were outside and alone again. Half-expecting her to apologize or tell him he was okay again, he was surprised when she smiled and said,

"Take me somewhere," she pressed her keys into his hands as he stood there, wide eyed. It wasn't that he couldn't drive a car. His prosthetic functioned fine enough; he just wasn't the most comfortable. She'd just witnessed a meltdown in her mother's kitchen, yet she was trust him with her keys, with herself, and the meaning behind it was too much to fathom.

"Where?" He asked as his hand into the fist around the keys.

"Anywhere," she whispered. Maybe it was the way she said it or just because of the kind of day they'd had, but it sounded so much like she was making him a promise.


	10. Stubborn Love

**A/N: A huge thanks to my readers for your patience in waiting for this chapter. I feel like I've been saying that too much lately, and am working to get these updates up faster. **

**In this chapter we'll see a flip of the coin. The other side of sorrow. I decided to go with a Damon POV chapter again, as he's working through so much right now. This chapter is about just that. In a way, he's been somewhat self-absorbed since he came back. Rightfully so, maybe, but he's about to get a reality check. At the same time, we're going to dig a little more deeper into Elena's psyche and watch Damon's fears unfold along the way. This chapter is a bit unsettling, so just a head's up. **

**I've chosen The Lumineers' "Stubborn Love" for this chapter. Thanks again for reading. :) **

* * *

**Through the Ghost**

**Chapter 9: Subborn Love**

_**Present Day - December**_

**About dinner tonight...I don't think it's such a good idea...**

Damon's finger hovered above the SEND key until the traffic light changed and he was able to cross the street. It was 5 pm and he was 2 blocks away from Elena's clinic, which meant he had about 5 minutes to either send the text or stuff the phone back in his pocket and stop doubting himself.

He had a lot of big things coming up. Alaric would be officially all moved in as of tomorrow, and he'd soon be staying busy with the bookstore and his old friend. That would leave him less time to think about Elena and all the changes that had happened between them in just the two weeks since Thanksgiving. They were falling into a pattern of seeing each other every day, and while it was great, it also came with a lot of challenges. Like feelings.

Meeting for coffee in the morning was one thing. It was simple exchange between them that lasted no longer than half an hour, and it gave him a reason to wake up early in the morning. He told himself it was a way to get used to getting ready for work, which would be starting soon, but he also knew seeing Elena first thing in the morning was a good enough reason of its own.

But that was a public place, packed with people who had no idea of the unspoken issues lingering between them. There wasn't much awkwardness because how much could one say over a 16oz cup of coffee? So they spent their mornings talking about little things, like any normal pair of friends would do. And he was happy with it, so he wasn't so sure why she had to go and ruin it by suggesting they spend alone time at her house, eating dinner, where there was little to no chance of interruption. But he'd had to make a choice, and when she'd asked him, she'd looked so fucking sweet that he couldn't turn her down.

That was two days ago. He'd had time to think since then. And panic.

Agreeing to dinner with Elena could be a mistake for two reasons. One, he wasn't so sure it she hadn't asked out of pity. The night of Thanksgiving when they'd left her parents house after his freak out, he'd completely blown it. She asked him to take her somewhere, anywhere in the whole world if he wanted, at least that's what her eyes had said, and he'd decided the best place to go was just home. Back to his apartment. He'd left the ignition running, put the car in park and opened the driver's side door all while Elena sat next to him looking completely defeated. But what had she expected? Them to go somewhere special to them? Somewhere they used to go before...well, before everything? Not in his state of mind and certainly not in hers. She put on a tough face but deep down he knew she was only held together by the chemicals balancing out her system. It just wasn't fair to go there.

And two...the way she'd tried to stop him from running into his apartment that night had really scared the shit out of him. Yeah, she was faster than him now; most people are. But he hadn't figured on her practically falling out of the passenger side and cementing her feet to the ground in front of him. The no eye-contact plan took a nose dive when his name left her lips in a raspy plea. She'd blinked up at him through her thick dark eyelashes in a way that had him thinking back to the kinds of looks she used to give him. In the bedroom. And lord. One head-trip a day was plenty. If she kept looking at him like that, he was going to end up doing something stupid and he actually liked the way things were going between them. At least when they were in public.

He'd won that night, if anyone was counting. He'd even got out of it with just a sweep of her hand from his shoulder down his right arm with a firm squeeze of his hand at the end. No hug. No awkward _see you later_. The only thing he could think of to say was _I'm sorry_, figuring he didn't really need to tack on the reason behind his apology. He was sorry for everything, really. There'd never be enough time or the right words to make her truly understand that. They hadn't been truly alone since, and she'd used text messages to secure their coffee plans so he couldn't really gauge her feelings from the tone of voice.

Every time he saw her she looked completely fine. Her hair was always wavy and damp, as if she'd just stepped out of the shower and thrown some kind of taming product in it. Her lips were colored a nice shade of red and she smelled sweet like flowers when she rattled off their orders at the coffeehouse counter. And every time he thought it would get easier to be around her, as if something would just click one day and he'd realize they really were just good friends, instead of always feeling like they were teetering on the edge of something more. She seemed so put together that sometimes he felt more apart than ever.

So maybe he was worried over nothing...over-thinking again. What would be so terrible about trying to be with her again, anyway? At first it was the idea that he'd be haunted; that he didn't deserve a good life or a second chance when his buddies hadn't been given the same. But the more time he spent with her and the less over-thinking he did, he realized the only thing keeping him from trying was the idea that it just might not work out. That after all he went through, _she_ went through, and all those years of waiting, that it had all been for nothing. That maybe they just weren't meant to be.

He just couldn't imagine being the carefree man she'd been with back then. And she'd loved him, he'd learned. So that brought a whole new set of challenges.

He didn't see the street light change at the next crosswalk because his eyes were squeezed closed, but he felt someone shove him and the blare of a siren reminded him where he was and where he was headed. One block. He pressed a key and lit up his screen again as he crossed with the crowd around him. She was staring at him, a digital copy of the sandy photo he'd carried with him in Iraq.

His gut ached as he pictured her reaction, which he would see either way, in about two minutes. He'd settled on a text message because he, too, was afraid to let her hear the sound of his voice. He didn't want to disappoint her.

If he sent that text, he'd watch her from across the street, because he didn't have it in him to say it to her face. And didn't that make him an asshole. She didn't expect him to show up at her office. He imagined her pushing the glass door of her office and getting into her car, figuring on going home and changing, checking the meal she'd been cooking all day for them in her crock pot. Could he really back out now just because he was afraid? The old him wanted to punch the new him in the nuts for even thinking about it.

Too late now. His feet had carried him where he needed to be, though his head was still a few blocks back, scrambling to figure out what the hell to do. Damn feelings. Damn Thanksgiving. It would've been easier for him to swallow if she'd freaked out when he hallucinated. The fact that she just got it, that she still trusted him meant she was vulnerable, that he he still had the power to hurt her and he hated it.

He held his breath as he stood in front of her office, tracing the letters of her name painted on the glass front door until it opened and he was met with a pair of familiar blue eyes. The last time he'd seen them they'd been boiling over with shocked jealousy. Now they were blank and disbelieving, as if Damon's return had been just an idea until they'd come face to face. And this was real. All of it.

"Looking for Elena?" Matt asked flatly, but shook his head before Damon could answer. He backed himself inside the office again and gave the door a good shove so Damon could walk through, too. Well, all chance of talking himself out of the dinner with Elena was shot. Truthfully, he'd gone to her office hoping he'd get a bout of courage, in either direction, and just know the right thing to say when he saw her. It had worked that way years ago, and many of the interactions they'd had recently sort of reminded him of the way things used to be. Simple and undemanding. If he could sort through the shit-cloud in his head, he was certain they could stay friends. And if he couldn't...

"I hope you know what you're doing," Matt said seriously. The hard edge in his voice kicked Damon back. This wasn't Elena's love-sick friend who'd punched him in the jaw out of envy; this was the man who'd loved and cared for Elena when he'd just walked away. The protectiveness in Matt's voice was almost intimidating, his warning loud and clear.

"You think you have some God-given right to show up whenever you feel like it and make everything go back to the way it was," he swallowed before lowering his voice, "And I'd say you're wrong..." he laughed bitterly. "But we all know how it works with you." Was this guy really 30-years-old? He sounded like a child. He sounded like the boy who hadn't gotten the girl when he was a teenager.

Damon frowned. "How what works?"

"You. Elena," he said quickly and took a breath, working up what was sure to be a pouty, pitiful speech. "She's never been one to come right out and talk about her feelings...but we were supportive. All of us. When you were fighting and she was home, falling apart at the seams..." he shook his head. "I didn't make a fucking move, man. I knew you didn't have a choice...and she really believed you'd come home to her and everything would turn all happily ever after. She didn't have to say it for everyone to know. And it was hard to sit back and watch it, knowing I could make her happy, too...that I was home, here, and it would be so easy if she only gave me the chance. But I watched her cry over you. Every day. She didn't doubt your for a second. I'll bet that makes you feel like shit."

Damon's stomach churned with guilt and sorrow as Matt's words hung in the air. He wasn't finished; neither of them were. Each word he said stuck with him like a new scar.

"And it should, because she showed up on my doorstep two years ago, sobbing," his eyes narrowed as he locked on Damon for the first time in years. "And it went on and _on_ and _on..._" he said painfully. "And I couldn't be supportive anymore. Why should I? You were home. You had a choice and it wasn't her. So what the hell was I supposed to do? The woman I love,comes to _me,_ finally, telling me you've turned her away. Was I the second choice? Yeah. Always," he shrugged. "But to me, being Elena Gilbert's second choice was better than any other woman's first choice. Because I love her. I always have and I always will. Now here you are," his bitter smile strengthened. "And when you mess her up again and leave, I'll still be here."

It took a lot to rile him up; Damon's self-control was still amazing, as unstable as he could be at times. But a shiver ran through him as a storm of images brewed in his head.

Colonel Elena Gilbert. Gilbert. Elena. _Lena. _The fight she'd put up the first time he'd kissed her. The twinkle in her eyes as she stared up at him at her mother's house the first time they'd made love. The laughter and the stupid little fights they'd gotten into about things he couldn't even remember now. The fear in her eyes as she told him she was pregnant.

Then the happiness faded away and he was flooded with the rest. These days it was easier to remember the bad than the good. Because no matter how good they'd been, how wonderful, it still ended in the same miserable way.

Deployment. No baby. Prescription stability. And now this.

She'd loved him. Of course he'd known it. He could see it in the teardrop stains on the letters he never answered. He'd wanted to. He'd written responses but never mailed them, afraid he'd say the wrong thing, that he'd push her away somehow or it would seem like he was pressuring her to answer his proposal. But now he knew. He should've sent them. He should've been stronger, bolder, more courageous. He wished he could've been strong enough to go to her, even in his condition, and tell her he loved her. Because he did. Of course he did.

Of course he does.

And he had no right to be upset to hear the way Matt had loved her while he'd been away. He should be happy she had someone when he was gone. He just couldn't bear the thought of her trying with anyone else. It was then that he realized he really was selfish.

"If you really knew Elena, you'd know she doesn't know _what_ she wants. She thinks it's you...that you'll somehow make her happy because nothing else has. Don't you get it? She doesn't know how it ends...and she _hates_ not knowing how ends. She's confused. She's sad," he emphasized. "And she wasn't, until you came home and reminded her. You want to be a hero? Say goodbye."

Now that he mentioned it, Elena had always had a problem letting things go. She'd been fine at first, but the closer they'd gotten, the more things had started to bother her. What if he was right? What if she was just trying to complete some circle?

The back door of the office opened into the lobby revealing Elena. Her eyes caught on Damon first and she looked at the clock on the wall.

"Damon," her eyes lit up as she said his name. "What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting up in an hour," she said softly, then her eyes shifted to Matt when she heard him snort, and she frowned as if the situation just dawned on her. "Is everything okay?"

Now he felt like an idiot for almost canceling. As predicted, the soft, sweet look on her face threw him off balance for a moment and made him forget what he was worried about.

"Fine," Damon said with a nod. "Just a little filler conversation until you were ready," he walked over to her when she tugged on her coat and fiddled with the buttons. Standing beside her, he felt powerful, but he wondered why he still felt the need to stick it to Matt, to prove she wanted him to be there as much as he wanted to be there.

"Are we still on for dinner tomorrow?" Matt asked, smiling, and Damon felt a twinge of jealousy. Yeah, things had been kind of weird between them, but the guy had been pretty plain about what he wanted. He was going to use their business partnership and Damon's probable screw ups to remind Elena where she really belonged in life. With him.

"Of course," she nodded without smiling. "I'll see you then. Have everything ready." He nodded , smiling at Damon as he pushed through the door. When he gone, the knot in Damon's stomach loosened and his soft exhale surprised him; being alone with her was so bittersweet.

"You surprised me," the gentle tone of her voice slammed him with guilt.

"I'm sorry," he frowned and rubbed the creases in his forehead. "I just started walking here. I didn't really have a plan once I caught up with you. I get ahead of myself. A lot."

"It's a good surprise," she tipped her head. "C'mon," she flipped the lights off at the front of the building and set the alarm pad for the night, motioning him out of the building so she could lock it. Her teeth chattered as she unlocked her car and they slid into the seats wordlessly. As he stared at the iced over windshield before them, he figured it would take a good fifteen minutes before it would thaw enough for good visibility.

"I'm getting a car with automatic start before next winter," she shivered. "

"This is what you use to scrape your car?" He smirked when she nodded, pulling a frayed snow brush from behind her seat. "I'll be out there for hours." He popped the handle of the passenger door and began working to clear the windshield. As the snow and ice disappeared, he was met with the warmth of her brown eyes, and it was peaceful. And peace, he realized, came from doing simple things. He was still able to help her, if only like this. If it could just stay like this forever, it would be okay.

* * *

She shook the snow out of her hair as they ascended the steps of her apartment. Although she'd been to his place more times than he could count, this was the first time he had the chance to get a glimpse at the space she now called home. Her personal space back by the base had started out plain, with white walls. By the time he'd left for Iraq, the two of them were everywhere, held in collage frames with inspirational quotes that said everything she never had the courage to tell him herself. Dream. Love. Happiness. Even in her time of sorrow, there'd been a light at the end of the tunnel.

While going to her place was hardly a big step in the grand scheme of things, it sure as hell felt like a big deal. Would he see himself on her walls now? The more he thought about it, the more he hoped he would. They were friends with a past. She'd loved him then, and he'd loved her and he shouldn't be so worried that things would somehow get messy between them now. But he was, because things with her had always been messy.

While she'd been to his place several times, he'd never let her in his bedroom or anywhere near the belongings he held dearly and couldn't bear to let her see; if she found those letters he'd never mailed, she'd surely never forgive him. He couldn't dream of throwing them away. As long as they existed, _he _existed. The happy Damon. The sure Damon. And although he'd been too afraid to show her his vulnerability in a time when he knew she was barely staying afloat, he'd meant every word he'd written.

While he sang a different tune, he really just wished he'd come home unscathed, good as new. He wished he was the same man that had kissed her goodbye that morning, because he would know what to do with her now. He would know the right words to say.

It felt like an eternity before they reached her front door. She fiddled with her keys, dropping them once before she managed to unlock it. He took a deep breath and already felt home. It was cozy and bright, the heater cranked to a perfect temperature to take the bitter cold redness out of his cheeks. It smelled wonderful and he couldn't help from wandering into the kitchen to have a look through the clear glass top of the crockpot on her counter.

"Hey," she said behind him, making him jump. Her hands were warm from the gloves she'd worn in the car, and they touched him lightly on his elbows as she peeked around his shoulder to look at him with mock frustration. "No peeking."

"It smells really good," he admitted, because it did. Aside from the awkward meal they'd shared on Thanksgiving, he'd been sustaining himself on burgers, fries and pizza. He'd learned to take a lot of things with a grain of salt, but he'd have been stupid to not see what she'd done for him. Thanksgiving was one thing; it was a tradition. But this...her cooking for him, intentionally, on a day that meant nothing to the rest of the world, meant everything to him. Just knowing her had been his greatest treasure; loving her had been a privilege. It didn't feel good to doubt her.

"It should be. It's been in there since 9 this morning," she smiled lightly as he turned toward her.

"You know, I'm really glad you're here with me," he heard her breath catch in her throat nervously as she slid her hands up the length of his arms and rested them on his shoulders, brushing away invisible lint. It had been a habit she'd gotten into years ago, and strangely enough, he felt just as warm when she did it now.

He looked at her cautiously, afraid to ask her what she meant. Here as in her apartment? Here as in New York? Here as in with her? She blinked a few more times, as if trying to memorize the moment, and he lost all chance of trying to figure her out. So instead of screwing it up, he decided just to smile.

"Things have been crazy and I'm glad we finally had a chance to do this," she breathed. "Celebrate, I mean. Your job, I mean," she clarified.

"Right," he nodded.

"You know you had me worried for a minute when I saw you at the clinic," he stood there still, arms at his sides, fully aware that she hadn't yet moved her hands from his shoulders. They'd stopped brushing, the only movement her thumbs on his collarbone.

Yep. There was definitely a reason he'd avoided alone time for as long as he could. His hands formed fists, then shifted back to flat palms as the tension pulsed through him; a slow death by beautiful memories that would stay just that. Why did she have to touch him? They'd reached some kind of norm while they were out every morning. No touching, just easy conversation over a caffeine fix. But now she was breaking all the unwritten rules, as if they were hiding a secret from the rest of the world.

The food smelled amazing and he focused on that instead. He just had to get through dinner and then he'd head home, go to bed and start focusing on work.

"I thought you were going to cancel. I'd be stuck eating all this by myself," she added with a tiny, truthful smile. He could get used to this honest side of her; it was much easier than gauging her feelings on facial expressions.

"Or with Matt tomorrow," he said quickly, unaware of how bitter it sounded as it left his lips. He waited a beat, expecting her to recoil and back away, take a breath and regroup...anything but what she actually did. Her warm hands moved up to the side of his neck and she pulled his focus from the crockpot back to her, staring at him with complete certainty. His shoulders sank beneath her touch as he released an ashamed sigh. "Never mind," he said softly, shaking his head and pulling his gaze away from her again. "Let's just eat."

She must've been on her tiptoes because she sank a few inches in front of him.

"It's not like that,"

" And if it is...really, Elena. Forget I said anything. I get it," he shrugged and he felt her nails dig gently into his shoulder, silently asking him to not shut down.

"I have a business dinner with him tomorrow. We're going to a restaurant with a few of the other practices in our building. It's going to be boring and drag on until everyone has a few too many glasses of wine and we all realize we don't want to be there anymore. Trust me. It's nothing. I don't even want to go."

His stomach dropped as he caught the tenderness in her voice. "It's...like I said, never mind. It's whatever. It's not my business."

"Maybe it is," she offered, but he saw her wince as he shook his head again. He swallowed and the feeling of her warm skin against his neck was enough to set him straight. She must've felt his chest heave because her hands dropped as soon as her eyes did, and she wandered a few feet away as if embarrassed.

"You should know something. I was going to cancel tonight. Not because I don't appreciate it. It's just this," he tossed his hand up to emphasize the small space between them, "You make it seem so easy when we both know it's not."

"No. But you make it so hard and it doesn't have to be," she said. "It's just _me_, Damon. It's okay,"

_Just you_. No such thing. If he could go back and rewind time, he'd do everything in his power to make her realize there was no such thing as _just_ Elena. She'd been a lot of things to him over the years. A physical therapist. A fellow soldier. A girlfriend. The mother of his unborn child. There was nothing simple about her and he hated that she always sold herself short.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized how surprising it was that she hadn't been snatched up by some other guy...other than Matt...because she was a catch and deserved to be happy and be loved by someone who could always put her first.

"I know," he nodded.

"Good. Now," she took a breath, "Sorry to leave you out here by yourself, but I've had a really weird day and I'd planned on at least showering before you got here. Do you mind if I hop in quickly?"

"I'm fine," he assured her. "What am I going to do?" But his smile saddened because he already saw her answer in her eyes. _Leave_. She probably figured he'd be gone the minute he got the chance, especially after what had just happened. "I'm fine," he repeated simply, even though it was becoming more clear what he had to do.

She seemed to think it over a few seconds before walking away. Strangely enough, it felt good to be alone with his thoughts. He sat down on her leather couch for a few minutes, bouncing his legs nervously as if he were somewhere he wasn't supposed to be. He saw his favorite picture of the two of them, hanging directly across from him, and the ease on his face reminded him how easy it once had been. Before they'd gotten pregnant, before he'd been deployed, he'd had real dreams. The younger versions of themselves were full of life and happiness and possibility; they didn't fear the future the way he did now.

* * *

_**December 2008**_

"Come on, we have to go," she smirked down at him, her hands pressed into the soft pillow on each side of his head. He blinked a few times, until his head cleared enough to remember why Elena was straddling him in nothing but grey Army t-shirt. It had been a hell of a night. Again. Which meant he was about to have a hell of a morning if he didn't get his ass moving.

"Actually, I'm kind of sick," he frowned, grabbing at his throat. "Come to think of it, you're looking kind of shitty yourself," he smirked. "Think it'd be obvious if we both called off sick today?"

"Yes. I do." She ran her hands over his buzzed hair playfully as her eyes widened with possibility. "We aren't doing that," she shook her head and some messy hair fell over her eyes. He pushed it away and sighed, grabbing for the half-empty water bottle on his nightstand and unscrewing the cap.

"Alright," he shrugged. "So I guess you better hit the showers, then," he wiggled his eyebrows and secured her in his arms. He dashed to the bathroom with her slung over his shoulder. He turned on the hot water and set her down in her t-shirt under the hot spray and held the curtain closed with a laugh, knowing she hated wet clothes.

He needed to hear her laugh. Over the past few weeks, they'd spent countless hours in bed, and she seemed happy then. It was all the other times that she seemed out of it, unsettled. When they bumped into each other in the chow halls, she was quiet and reserved, as if she didn't want to be seen with him. It wasn't true, of course, and anytime he brought it up she assured him of that.

"How's the water?" He called out, smiling brightly though she couldn't see it.

"You think you're funny," she said, turning off the water and ripping the other side of the curtain open with a smile. She peeled her top off and tossed it aside, pulling him into the small stall with her.

He'd learned to keep a duffel of clothes at her apartment after the first time he'd slept over, so he worked quickly to get dressed for the day. She emerged from the bathroom 20 minutes later, her hair soaking wet, tied up in a neat bun. At first glance, she looked professional and stern, but her eyes danced with playfulness as she pressed a kiss on his cheek.

"I made plans with Caroline tonight," she smiled. "You can come too, if you want, but keep in mind she doesn't really get us,"

Of course she didn't. Elena had never come right out and told her. When the three of them were together, there was a lot of eye shifting and confusion, but he got the idea that Caroline knew not to ask questions. She'd just been so affectionate around her family that he'd assumed it would be different when they got back. But it all came back to one thing; duty.

It had been just a few weeks since Thanksgiving and his realization that he loved her. He hadn't said it yet, and wasn't sure when he should, but they'd been spending a lot of their free time together, and he knew it was more than just about the sex. They were getting more serious faster than she probably wanted.

"Na, you enjoy your time," he smiled. "It's a good chance to get some actual sleep. It's been a few weeks." She nodded, smiling and motioned toward the door. "Hey, Elena..." She spun around at the sound of her name.

"You'd tell me if something was bothering you, right?" He asked seriously. "If you were unhappy or I was doing something wrong? I don't want to push you."

"Yeah, of course. But everything's fine," she bit her lip, a trait he'd learned was associated with nervousness. "You don't have to worry." But he'd felt her pull away from him when he complimented her lately, and worried she was getting in deeper than she'd wanted.

"Come here," he pulled her back, pressing a kiss to her mouth. He felt the tension ease out of her and smiled against her lips. "I know this is all still new, but I need you to promise me you'll always be honest with me. Even when you don't want to be."

"Okay," she said softly.

"I know it doesn't seem like a big deal, but it is to me, okay? Just promise me,"

"Damon," she smiled. "I said okay. Okay?" He waited still until she finally said, "I promise."

* * *

_**Present Day - December**_

He realized he'd been holding his breath when Elena came back into the room in a pair of leggings and a long teal shirt that hung well past her waist. Her hair was wet, twisted up in a messy bun, and it made him smile for the simple fact that she was make up free. It had been the way he'd first met her, and while she looked nice either way, it was good to know some things never change.

She poured them two ice cold glasses of water before plopping down next to him on the black couch. He drained his quickly as she talked about her day, and was thankful for the ice, which he chewed to keep himself from saying something stupid about Matt or life in general. He got the feeling she had a much more positive outlook on life these days.

Somewhere in the middle of her talking, he zoned out. He remembered the look on Matt's face when they'd run into each other earlier, then noticed he was nowhere on her walls. She'd made their breakup sound peaceful enough, but he'd felt the tension buzzing in the lobby of their clinic. Things were bad between them; even a guy who'd been out of the loop for awhile could see that.

_She doesn't know what she wants. She thinks it's you...that you'll somehow make her happy because nothing else has. Don't you get it? She doesn't know how it ends...and she _hates_ not knowing how it ends. _

The longer he thought about it, the more it made sense. Terrible sense. And he couldn't stand that the voice of reason had come in the form of Matt.

He wasn't sure how long she'd been quiet, but he felt her shoulder nudge his and snapped back to reality. "You still with me?"

"Yeah, sorry," he cleared his throat, knowing he was about to walk into a firestorm. But he didn't have a choice...not after what Matt had said. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course you can," she frowned and he knew the tone of his voice had just given him away.

"Why are we doing this?" He set his cool, empty glass on a coaster on her coffee table and inched closer to the edge of the couch. Away from her.

"Dinner? Like I said, we're celebrating your new job," She said hopefully, but he shook his head and she seemed to understand. "I'm happy for you. I'm proud of you,"

"Thank you. But that's not what I mean," Matt's words ran through his mind. _She doesn't know what she wants. We all know how it works with you... _

_ "_Doing what? Spending time together?"

"Any of it. All of it. Why do you just drop everything for me? Why do you make me dinner and meet me everyday for coffee and act like everything's fine?"

"Because it is fine, Damon. You're home. I'm happy. This is right. This is the way it's supposed to be."

Oh God no. Anything else would've been more settling than that. How had he not seen it before? Had she really waited, all this time, just because she thought the only way she could be happy was if he came back to her. The thought sickened him, knowing he'd both prevented her from happiness and somehow propelled her sickness.

"No, Elena. It isn't," he panicked. "There is no _supposed to be_. If there was, our lives would be a whole hell of a lot different. We're supposed to have a child. You were supposed to say yes when I asked you to marry me. I'm supposed to be dead," he emphasized, and as you can see, none of that happened, so living to fulfill those plans is kind of pointless, don't you think?"

"No," she said angrily, and he could hear her voice break. He'd done it again...brought up the baby just weeks after he'd promised himself he wouldn't ever mention it again. "I'm not living to fulfill anything. I'm doing this because I want to..."

"You want to what?"

"Help you, be there for you, I don't know..." her voice picked up an edge and he knew he was pushing her too far, but all he could think about was her father, about _her_ greatest purpose, and her obsession with fixing people and situations that were broken.

She'd talked about not feeling like she'd done her job overseas, about wanting to be sent to Iraq where she could really feel like she'd made a difference. She craved fulfillment, even with him. She'd never seemed excited about the baby until it was too late, and he hadn't really thought about it then, but it made perfect sense now. She'd suffered loss upon loss in her lifetime; all she wanted was to believe she had a choice in life.

"I just know this is right," she added.

"Why?" She had no idea the ideas that were spinning in his mind, and he probably sounded more harsh than he'd meant to at first. But a the conversation progressed, he realized he was panicked. Maybe it shouldn't matter _why_ she was wanted to be with him, but it did. It really did, because he'd love her more than anyone in the world and he couldn't handle being anything but the same to her.

"_Damon_..." she swallowed and he saw the darkness settling in. Matt was right about that, too. She puts on a tough front, but she's still fighting, everyday. "You know why."

"I'm afraid I do, and I want it to stop," he said seriously. "I don't want you changing your life for me, and I know you are. I know things are bad with Matt. I know you've been skipping out on work to go to things with me," he held up his hand when she opened her mouth to interrupt. "I know you, Elena. I may have been gone for a long time, but I still know how you are. You have to fix everything. You get it in your head that it's your job. But I'm not a project. I can assure you that all promises and plans are now null and void," he said firmly. He didn't need to elaborate much more than that; there were only a few promises made in their time together.

"I'm home. I came back to New York because in my head, I knew what _I _needed. I didn't think about what it would do to you...or maybe I thought when I got here you'd push me away and then I'd finally accept the way it was going to be. Maybe I needed closure, too."

"That's _not_ the way it's going to be. Why are you doing this? You were fine just a few minutes ago. You've been fine for weeks. Now all of the sudden I'm doing something wrong because I want to spend time with you? All the sudden I have some ulterior motive for wanting to be with you? It doesn't make sense."

And of course it didn't, because neither of them were really that stable about their relationship or lack their of. How could they figure out who was right and who was wrong when there was a constant burning of sadness in both of their hearts? She just wore a more believable mask on the outside.

"We were fine, Damon."

"Maybe. But we've been getting closer lately. Things are getting real. It would be easier if you didn't touch me or hug me or pretend like this is going somewhere, because I'm just screwed up enough to start thinking that you might actually still want me. And I don't want to think like that. I can't think like that."

"I wish I'd never given you reason to doubt me," she managed. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that I might still want you?"

"Because you don't even know me," he said roughly and her head fell into her hands as he continued. "You can't let me go because I'm still broken. You're unfulfilled, and there's nothing you hate more than not having that control. I won't let you base the rest of your life on me. Because you've lived a whole lot longer without me than you have with me."

"And I was unhappy. The whole time. I'm happy now," she insisted.

"Exactly," he said sadly. "You don't want me. You want the idea of me. You're saying you can't be happy without me...and I think maybe you need to be, because that's too much pressure on both of us," his heart ached. "We need to stop this. We need to eat a nice dinner and then we need to say goodbye. Nicely. We need to part as friends, for good, while we still have good memories and before this turns ugly, because if it goes much longer we're going to screw something up. Think of it this way: I'm just a guy you spent a couple of months with at the end of your your military career. It was good and then it ended. Because it did end, Elena. It did. If it hadn't, we wouldn't be having this conversation. It isn't supposed to end differently, because it already has."

She stood, making her way into what he assumed was the bathroom without giving him a second glance. Her eyes were dry and big, and she looked as if she'd just been told the biggest secret in the world, as if she simply couldn't process it.

When she emerged a few minutes later, she stepped lightly into the kitchen to switch off the crockpot. The serving spoon slammed against the ceramic plates and she dished up their chicken, and all the while he wondered if he'd finally gotten through to her or if she was really just angry. He probably owed her an apology, although all he'd ever told her was the truth.

Unsure of what to do or say, he waited silently on the couch, watching her pull the rolls out of the oven that she'd thrown in a few minutes before, and grab a head of lettuce and some carrots out of the fridge, as if making a salad would clear her head. Her shoulder bounced as she chopped.

Maybe making a salad would just buy her some more time away from him. All the while he wondered why she was still feeding him dinner. If he was as big of an asshole as it seemed he was, he didn't deserve to be there, eating her food in a warm, cozy home.

Did he really think he could walk away from her forever? It hadn't worked before and it wouldn't work now, but he needed to give her the choice now that she'd gotten a chance to know him again. Things were getting too cozy; he needed a reality check. He needed a way to give her an out...because he knew she'd never try to take it on her own.

His head ached the more he thought about it. He could've probably handled it better.

"Dammit!" She yelled, slamming the knife down on the counter and bringing her finger up to her mouth. He stood immediately, all trace of anxiety gone, and rushed to her side. With the plate of steaming hot chicken next to them, he pulled her finger from her mouth and frowned.

"Well shit," he said, wide-eyed. "Let's get you in the bathroom and wash it off." Blood didn't scare him. He'd seen plenty in his day. But Elena's blood meant something different. The last time he'd seen her bleeding he'd lost a part of them, and he'd forever associate her pain with it. He couldn't save the baby, but he could fix her finger.

He turned on the faucet and slid her finger under the water as he opened the trifold mirrored doors of her medicine cabinet above them. Thoughtlessly, he rummaged through, knocking over bottles as he searched for rubbing alcohol or antibiotic ointment or gauze until he found what he needed. Methodically, the water was off and her wound was cleaned, wrapped and determined to not need stitches. He wasn't a doctor, but he knew a thing or two about flesh wounds.

As he placed the box of gauze back up in the cabinet, her bottles of prescribed medication fell into the sink. He stared at them for a moment, reading the name of the drugs just below the bolded ELENA GILBERT, before grabbing them out of the basin.

He'd known about the anxiety medication. She hadn't told him about the anti-depressants. The bottle was full and he quickly scanned the date it was filled. Three months ago. It didn't look like she'd taken a single one. He remembered her saying Matt hated her medicine because he'd thought it made her weak. As he looked up at her, he realized she was crying.

The past twenty minutes were a blur, but as he thought them through, he realized she wasn't crying about her finger. She swiped at his hand, grabbing for the medicine and shoving it into the cabinet before slamming it closed. Though her tears had fallen silently, he heard her gasp for air as if she couldn't hold it in anymore. Her hands shook as they moved to tuck some damp, loose strands of hair behind her ears, but they just fell forward back into her eyes. Her chest heaved up and down and he knew she was probably seeing stars with all the hyperventilating she was doing.

She swiped at his hand, grabbing the bottles and shoving them forcefully back in the cabinet. She went to look at herself in the mirror, but instead ended up seeing him watching her. It was never good when both of them felt powerless, so he took the first step.

His fingers slid up to move the hair again for her, ensuring it stayed put this time. Afterward, he rested his hands on her shoulders and his chin on the top of her head, all the while staring her right in the eyes in the mirror. She was strong, but not that strong, and he'd pushed her too far. He pulled his eyes away from the mirror and reopened the cabinet, handing her the bottles of pills.

"I'm sorry I upset you," he said softly. "But you need to take your medication, Lena. You haven't been taking these, have you?"

"No," she shook her head and put the bottle down on the sink. "I don't need it."

He frowned. Just weeks ago, when he'd come home, she'd been fine taking her medicine. She'd taken it right in front of him. It was no secret and nothing to be ashamed about. Sometimes she was scared...sometimes the shit running through her head was just too heavy to sort out on her own. He accepted that and thought she did, too.

"My doctor prescribed them to me even thought I told him I was fine. I didn't want them. I got them filled just to have them. To look at them and tell myself I didn't need them."

"Why?"

"Because I need to be happy now. I don't need it anymore," it came out like a sob. "You're home. I have everything I wanted. Life's a dream, right? So why the fuck do I still feel like this?"

He took a sharp breath just as her head crashed into his chest, soaking his grey shirt with tears. Her fists collided into his shoulders again and again, as she hammered out her anger and fear and anxiety as she hadn't been able to while he was gone.

"What makes you sad?"

"I don't even know anymore. It started when I lost the baby. It tripled when you left for Iraq," she said honestly, and he knew she was doing her best to fulfill the promise she'd made him so long ago, even though he'd told her she no longer had to. "I was back and forth while you were at war, but I never fell completely over the edge because I wanted to believe you'd come back. And I was a mess because I was terrified that my life wasn't going to turn out the way I thought it was supposed to. You're right; i'm a control freak, because things work out the way I need them to when I'm the one in charge. So when you sent me away I finally lost it. I was pissed, but I grieved for you as if you'd died, because the man I loved would've never done that to me. That's now how it was supposed to end and I couldn't get past that."

Ugh.

"I still see my therapist and my doctor, mostly because I'm afraid if I don't I'll somehow regress. But like I said. I have everything I want now. I shouldn't need it anymore. I shouldn't be afraid and I shouldn't be sad. Nothing traumatic happened to me. I just loved too hard and too much, which was exactly what I was afraid of when we first started seeing each other."

He wasn't sure what to say, because in a way she'd just said he was the reason she'd been hurting for years. Why the hell would she even want to deal with him anymore?

"I'm so sick of people telling me what I need to do with my life. Focus on work. Find someone to love. Be myself. Love myself first. Then you come home and you're right; everything changes. I don't have to pretend I'm happy with the way life is going, and nobody has to pretend that you don't exist or that you never did. Mom and Jeremy get it. You're home. You're safe. I got what I wanted, so why can't I just be happy without the pills? I have nothing to be sad about...but I am... and I'm just so sick of it."

Her words soaked into him slowly and his heart began to race. "Me too. I know I should be better by now, but I'm just not. I want to be happy again."

In a way, he was admitting things without the _I still love you_. And to think, all this because she'd decided on an impulse salad.

"If I want to fucking spend time with you, I will, okay?" She tightened her fists on his shirt. "Not because I'm a control freak and not because I need to fix you. You're wrong, okay?"

"Okay," he said, although the tone of voice she used was full of control. He'd never heard her plead with him this way. "But I need you to do something...not for me...for you. You need to take care of yourself, Elena. You need to take your medication. Please."

"I haven't even started it. No one else knows. You can't tell them. They'd think I'm crazy. And I'm not. I don't always need to be right."

"I know," he said quickly. "And I know I have no right to preach it to you when I'm not on any myself. But that's me and I can handle it. It's you I'm worried about. Take it. Please,"

He felt her nod against his chest and pressed his hands against her back, wanting to comfort her. He listened to his own advice and stopped over-thinking as one hand came up to cradle the back of her neck so he could press a kiss to her forehead. At first it only made her cry harder, and her hands fisted his shirt. He closed his eyes and kissed it again. And again. And this time on her right cheek, and then her left, the salt of her tears soaking into his dry lips, filling a void in him he hadn't really known was there. He continued the soft kisses until her sobbing stopped and he felt her relax and move closer to him, pressing her forehead against his warm lips again before looking up at him.

"I'm sorry. I'm not normally like this," she sad sadly. "I just really don't want to say goodbye to you," she whispered, her voice cracking. His heart leapt in his chest, relieved. "Not again. Please." When he didn't answer, she just pushed harder. "I mean it, Damon. Promise you won't give up. I know I'm scary right now, but I won't always be this way."

"You're not scary," he rested his cheek on the top of her head.

As she cried the words before him, he realized things were messier than they had been earlier. He hadn't enabled her; he _was_ her disease. The confident woman who'd lingered at his shoulders was gone, replaced with this desperate Elena. He told himself she'd just hit a rough patch, that he'd pushed her too far. He couldn't stand to see her this way, a ball of emotions just over him. Now their dinner was cold, Elena's blood still smeared on the cutting board and he'd wondered what would've happened if he'd canceled. Deep down he knew she'd have held it inside until it exploded, because that's what she did.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said softly.

He wanted to believe she was okay giving up the control and letting things be. He wanted to believe that she was right...that the doctors and therapists had all been wrong about her needing to be on medication, but a piece of him shattered as she raised herself up on her tiptoes so she could whisper in his ear.

"Good, because this isn't the way it's supposed to end,"

He closed his eyes and hugged her again as it dawned on him just how similar they really were.

* * *

**A/N: I really wanted to focus on Elena this chapter because we know she had a rough time all those years and we know she has anxiety, but we haven't seen a real breakdown until now. And I was sad, really, as I wrote his doubts in her. It may seem strange to some to think he's taking Matt's word for it when he's never liked the guy, but it's important to remember how easily Damon doubts things these days. He's only ever loved her. He's only ever really believed in her, and to find out it might all just be due to her need to control the way things end was really startling. We see her so desperate to prove she doesn't need control, but at the same time, she's still begging him until he finally agrees. **

**Thanks for reading. **


	11. Anyhow

A/N: Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews. I really can't thank you enough for the time you've taken to let me know what you think. I was really eager to write this chapter, so I squeezed in some extra time to work on this week. We're going to jump around again, as usual. In this chapter, we'll see both past and present, as well as the thoughts and feelings of both Damon and Elena.

It's important to note this is part one of two when it comes to Christmas. As I did with Thanksgiving, I wanted to spend the time and not rush through it it. These have been, and still are, big moments for them. And gradually, we'll see why and learn a little bit more about the way things were before.

I've chosen Tyler Lyle's "Anyhow..." for this chapter. Haven't heard it? Give it a listen and I think you'll understand why I picked it. Thanks again for reading.

* * *

**Through The Ghost**

**Chapter 10 – Anyhow...**

_**Present Day - December 23**_

"Maybe we should get a Christmas tree or something." Alaric sat atop the wooden counter of his bookstore one early late December morning, glancing sideways at Damon. "It's looking pretty dull in here. I know we're guys, but it doesn't take much to string up some lights."

"Might be kind of late for that now, don't you think? Tomorrow's Christmas Eve and then we're closed on Christmas Day," he cleared his throat and took a sip of coffee. "My offer still stands, by the way. I'm not doing anything anyway. I'd be happy to work if it meant we could sneak in an extra day of sales. I'm sure someone will need a last minute gift,"

"You're not working on Christmas," Alaric said seriously. "I'm not doing anything either, remember? So I kind of thought that meant we'd just do nothing together. I'm pretty good at grilling, or we could just order some pizza if anything's open, even though this thin crust shit just doesn't cut it for me like the deep dish," he squinted and jumped off the counter, walking toward the big front window. "Or you could spend it with Elena. Which is what you really want to do anyway."

"I'm going to ignore that because it's early and we've only had one cup of coffee. I know you wouldn't seriously bring that up if you were thinking clearly," he shook his head. "I know I'm not thinking clearly..."

"Well you better figure start, because she's walking across the street," he turned with a smirk. "And I'm pretty sure she isn't planning on drinking three coffees that size by herself."

Elena's heart slammed inside her chest outside the store. The ground was clear, as it hadn't snowed since the day she and Damon had gone to her apartment for a dinner that was supposed to change everything. And it had, naturally, because when they were together, they always evolved.

A few weeks of morning coffee did not automatically fix everything. She hadn't thought it would. But he'd looked terrified in her kitchen when her hands were on him, and she had to admit it made her sad. The shower had been a good excuse to get away from him a minute and pull her shit together. Of course, it hadn't worked. She'd felt more vulnerable as ever when she got out of the shower and saw him sitting on her couch, staring at the picture of them with glassy eyes.

So she'd taken the opportunity to change the subject, thinking they both needed to calm down and listen to something other than the screaming voices in each of their heads. And then they'd gotten into it and he'd said a lot of things that she didn't want to admit made a little sense. But how could look her in the eye and not see how real things were? How could he believe he was nothing more to her than an obsession, a mental glitch? And while she'd promised herself she'd be more honest with him this time, she was so afraid of just laying out there. If he freaked out out when she touched him, he'd really have a problem with her telling her she loved him.

Of course she did. It was okay to admit to herself. Secrets were her specialty. No one really understood her sadness because no one every knew all the things she'd lost. Damon was the obvious one, but the engagement, the baby...they were things she hadn't told a soul...not even her doctors. Not even her therapists. She was just sad, she'd said, and they'd decided she'd repressed things from childhood or maybe even from adulthood and now they were surfacing. And she'd let them believe it, because if she ever said the real reasons out loud, they'd really be real. If she let the rest of the world in on her secrets, she wouldn't be the only one hurting. Besides, it was in the past. What good would dropping that bomb on them do now?

Of course Damon knew it all. The sadness in his eyes were a mirror of hers, and she knew he had a lot of other problems that she didn't understand, but why couldn't he just realize that _they_ didn't have to hurt. Not apart. No one said they couldn't be together. He'd chosen to come home and she didn't care if he said it was for selfish reasons. The reasons didn't matter anymore.

And those kisses. She'd remembered how it felt, of course. A few years back she'd told herself she had to, because there was a good chance she'd never get the real thing again. But it had been for all the wrong reasons, even if it was just on the cheek. They'd hit a milestone that night, and instead of it happening for a good and healthy reason, it had happened because she lost it and collapsed into him. And she couldn't admit it to him because he'd probably just worry about her more, but those little kisses had been better than any medicine she could take.

He didn't want to be her medicine, though, and it probably wasn't going to happen again. It didn't automatically mean he didn't want _her. _He did a pretty good job of setting some boundary lines. It hurt, really, but in the time she'd had to think about it since, she realized he'd done her a favor by being so honest about his fears. Come to think of it, it felt like a gift.

They'd eaten dinner eventually. It had to be reheated but it still tasted fine. And then he'd left without touching her or hugging her goodbye, and they'd seen each other just once since. It hadn't been on purpose; she'd ordered her coffee and turned to see him behind her. He'd ordered two black coffees to go and asked her how she'd been in a way that seemed so impersonal she couldn't stand it.

He was busy with his job, which she was happy about, because it meant he had something to new to focus on instead of sitting around thinking about everything else. He needed a friend other than her, and from what he'd told her about him in the past, it didn't get much better than Alaric. She hadn't seen him since he'd moved there, but he'd made a kind impression on her when she'd briefly talked with him in Chicago, and she was thankful Damon had someone besides her to talk to.

But it was just about Christmas and she was done giving them space. He hadn't asked her for any, but he hadn't needed to. Needing space implied they were too messy to deal with, and as long as she knew he wasn't going anywhere, she was okay taking some time to think through her feelings, too. When he was there, right in front of her, she didn't think. She just acted. Damon used to love that about her before, but now it seemed like he didn't like it much at all.

So before she could chicken out, she turned her back to the glass door of their bookstore and pressed until it opened and she heard the hum of a bell. They'd been kind enough to give her a carrier for the big coffees she'd ordered, but they nearly tipped as she stumbled backwards into the store. She got them in order before she looked up and met Damon's eyes.

"Hey," she said softly as she unwrapped her scarf from around her neck until it hung loosely on each shoulder. "Sorry to surprise you. I thought I'd stop in and check out the store now that you're settled in. I wanted to try that new coffee place across the street anyway."

She pulled one black coffee out of the holder and handed it to Damon before turning toward Alaric and extending the other out to him. "You take yours black, too, right?"

"Well aren't you sweet," he smirked and looked at Damon, who sent him a glare that said _shut the hell up_. "She's sweet."

Her eyes shifted to Damon and he smiled. She'd hoped she'd been right...that the second coffee he'd ordered the day they'd bumped into each other had been for Alaric and not someone else.

"So," she breathed, "It's nice in here," she walked around, looking at the shelves lining the walls with titles she'd never heard of before. "But it could stand for a little decoration, don't you think?"

"Take it up with him," Alaric tipped his head toward Damon. "Mr. scrooge," he shook his head. Her breath caught in her throat.

"Well, I've got some office stuff to do in the back so I better get to it. Thanks for the coffee, Elena. Feel free to drop by anytime." And with that, he was gone and they were truly alone for the first time in weeks. The store was empty for now, but the windows were big and it was almost like they were being watched anyway.

She shrugged off her coat and hung it on a hook on the wall. "I'll only stay a few minutes," she said defensively. She released a sigh and let her eyes wander along the walls of the store.

"It's fine. How've you been?" He walked around to the front of the counter to stand beside her, and when he met her eyes, her stomach swirled with nerves. And that was good; she never wanted to lose that feeling, and not just because it was familiar.

"Fine," she said simply. "If you're asking me if I'm taking my medicine, the answer is yes."

"I'm glad you are, but that's not what I was asking," he sipped his coffee slowly and cringed when he realized how hot it still was, knocking some of the tension from between them. "Big plans for Christmas with your family this year?"

"The office is closed for the rest of the week, so I've had some extra time to relax, which is a good thing. I'm spending Christmas Eve at Mom's this year. Izzy's all excited for presents. Are you working?" She stopped herself before she could invite him along.

She felt his eyes on her as she walked to the front window and focused on the cars driving by. She hadn't gone there to ignore him, but she'd figured a few weeks of separation would've made things a little easier to swallow.

_Don't ask him, Elena..._

"Christmas Eve, yeah," he nodded and sipped his coffee again, this time finishing with a smile on his face. "He won't let me keep the place open on Christmas Day, even though I'd much rather work than sit around. You know me. I don't usually celebrate," she heard him say, just before she turned and ran into a kid-sized coat rack. Stumbling like an idiot, she fell to her hands and knees, cursing herself for wearing heels.

She wished she could blame her tendency to be clumsy, but she knew the real reason she'd whipped around so quickly. The memory of the one Christmas they'd spent together was so clear in her mind. For a second, she'd thought he might make reference to it. She'd needed to see the look in his eyes because they always told the truth. But instead of making some deep connection, she'd fallen on her ass. That was just so her these days.

"Hey," he said with a frown, rushing over to her. "You okay? I'm sorry. I meant to move it, I guess I just forgot." She smiled at the hand reached out toward her and grabbed it, focusing on his eyes as she stood up. For a minute, everything was fine, until she saw recognition in his eyes and what they'd latched onto. Grasping at it as she had a thousand times before, her hands met the cold metal chain and she tucked it back under her shirt, hoping she hadn't made him too uncomfortable.

Her heart slammed harder when he moved a wave of hair away from her neck and drew his focus back onto the chain. She could feel his hand shaking as his fingers pressed into the chain and gently slid down until it was once again on the outside of her shirt, where he could clearly read the letters spelling his last name.

She hadn't even realized she'd been holding her breath until the pad of his thumb rubbed across the tag and she thought she saw stars. Her cheeks blazed with embarrassment as she reached up to grab it from him.

"Please don't say anything," she whispered before she looked up at him, afraid she'd see anger lines in his beautiful face. Her slipped over his as her fingers tried to sneak under his to free the metal from his grasp. A lump slid down her throat when she realized he wasn't letting go and their fingers had intertwined somewhere along the way. She looked up hesitantly, ready to plead with him to say something...anything...because if her brain had to decide what he was thinking, it would dream up something sad.

"You still wear these?" He asked slowly, as if in disbelief, and her breathing evened out. She released her hand from his and slid it up around the chain, ducking her head so she could pull it off and hand it to him. She'd feel bare without it, empty. She'd worn it almost every day since he'd given it to her. Even when she was angry with him after he'd sent her away, she'd found herself pulling it over her head at night, desperate for it. Desperate for him. For them. She wanted him against his skin, and at that point, it was as close as she could get.

But not anymore; he was real again. He was touchable...touching her...and she was on fire, even if he didn't want her to be. Now it was her turn to shake as she began to lift the chain over her head to take it off.

"No, don't," he said quickly, slipping the chain from her fingers so it would fall back down around her neck. "Leave it on." His fingers rubbed over his name once more, and for the first time since he'd come back to her, his smile reached his eyes.

The front door opened and jumped back into reality at the sound of the welcome bell. Customers. Oh yeah, they weren't alone at all. Little kids ran up and down the aisles of the store and their mother dropped shopping bags and diaper bags as she struggled to keep an eye on all three of them at once.

And just like that, the moment was over. It was time to go before she went too far and asked him to spend Christmas Day with her. The thought of him being alone frustrated her, though she'd have to learn to go with the flow and give him his space if she ever wanted him to believe she didn't always need to be in control. _Because I love you_ just wasn't an option she could use.

"I should probably go so you can help your customers," Elena smiled and pulled her coat from the hook, wrapping it around herself more tightly, buttoning it quickly. She wrapped her scarf around her neck and grabbed her coffee off the counter and said three words that felt wonderful and sad all at the same time.

"Merry Christmas, Damon."

The door clicked closed behind her and she took a few heavy steps forward. The last ten minutes whizzed through her mind. Against her better judgement, she glanced back. She hadn't expected to see him standing in the window staring back.

* * *

_**Damon – Christmas Eve – Present Day**_

Damon's eyes were filled with tears as he sat at the edge of his bed. He didn't care if they fell; there was no one around to see it anyway. Through now blurry vision, he stared at the tattered dog tags in his palm, opening and closing his hand as if they might just disappear.

He hadn't worn them or looked at them in years. In fact, they'd been shoved in a drawer with a lot of other things he didn't have the heart to look at since he'd gotten home from Iraq. He'd had no one to leave them to, so he'd kept them simply because it felt too wrong to throw them away. Now his fingers ran along the metal and he remembered the last time he'd really looked at it. He'd been face down in the sand and the chain had been in front of him, still around his neck.

He probably would've avoided looking at them forever if it hadn't been for Elena. He wasn't able to give her his official set, so he'd had some made with basic information, as he'd heard a lot of soldiers did for their wives and girlfriends when they left for war. And she'd taken the gift to heart, apparently, because she was still wearing them.

In those brief moments that passed between them from the time she fell to the time the customers ran in and snapped them out of it, he'd felt something. Something big and wonderful and powerful. Feeling his dog tags around her neck was a sort of tangible love.

The metal was supposed to be cool, but all he could feel was the warmth from her skin. He'd let them go and watched them fall back against her chest, soon to be warmed again by the blood pumping through her veins. She hadn't meant for him to see them. She'd actually looked terrified and embarrassed, but he couldn't blame her after the way he'd reacted at their dinner a few weeks back. Besides, there weren't words for the way it made him feel.

It touched him in a way he hadn't expected. When he'd first seen them fall from her shirt, he'd been shocked. He'd always dreamed of her keeping them with her, wearing them around her neck at night while she slept and he was away fighting. But he hadn't figured on her keeping them and treasuring them after he'd sent her away.

He'd doubted her feelings because it had been the safer route to take. He'd been trained to doubt things and go with his instincts. But he'd also been trained to trust, and he'd never trusted anyone more in his life than her. Why was it so hard for him to remember that when she was right in front of him, but crystal clear when he was alone?

With a sigh, he fisted the chain once more and tossed it back in his drawer. He ran a hand through his hair and stood up, looking at the clock on the wall. It was 8 p.m. The store had closed at 5, because shoppers would be with their families anyway.

The weather had decided to cooperate and deliver a white Christmas, which was wonderful for traditional reasons, but horrible for traveling. He wouldn't have really given it a second thought if Alaric hadn't gotten a panicked phone call that afternoon, telling him his mother had suffered a heart attack. Provided his flight had gotten off on time, he was halfway to Orlando by now. But Damon understood; he'd kill to have family to see on the holidays, no matter how easily he tried to blow it off as no big deal.

Christmas as a kid had never been so thrilling. While other children his age squealed over which presents they wanted and whined about spending another afternoon with extended family, he sat at his desk and pretended to read, because he didn't have those kinds of stories to tell.

He'd had one real Christmas he'd enjoyed, and it had been with Elena. It was still fresh in his memory as one of his favorite memories. When she'd showed up at the store two days ago, he'd half expected her to invite him to spend this year's holidays with her. He could feign disinterest all he wanted; if she'd have asked him, he would've said yes. She'd given him a taste of familiarity the other day and it had been addicting. As the picture of her on his dresser caught his eye, he'd never felt more lonely. And just like that, he knew what he had to do.

* * *

_**Christmas Eve 2008**_

"Okay, okay," Damon laughed, squirming around as Elena walked behind him with her hands over his eyes. "You're about to walk me into a wall."

"Keep them closed," she warned playfully. Her voice was like a song, sweet and memorable. "Two more steps," she breathed as they walked into her living room. "Okay, you can look." She lifted her hands from his eyes and he felt he press her forehead into the middle of his back.

His eyes lit up in surprise when he saw a narrow artificial tree decorated from top to bottom with blue and white lights and knick knack ornaments. To the right of it, on her white wall, hung two fuzzy red stockings, and his feet propelled him forward toward them.

In her handwriting, his name was scrawled across the white felt top in green marker, and he smiled when he was close enough to touch it. She didn't know it, but she'd given him his very first stocking. With a mouth as dry as cotton, he turned as he heard her say,

"So, what do you think?" She asked, oblivious to how affected he was by the gesture. "I know it's not much. I just kind of threw something together. I just wanted to have something to make it feel real, since we're stuck here and all."

The thing was, he didn't feel stuck at all. They'd made plans to go to her Mom's house for the holidays, but Miranda had convinced Jeremy to go with her to see Elena's great aunt Emma in Pittsburgh the weekend prior, and their flight home had been canceled due to poor visibility. If anything, their Christmas alone together was a blessing in disguise.

He had something to tell her, and seeing that stocking and the Christmas she'd thrown together for them at the last minute only made him want to tell her more.

"It's perfect," he said seriously and her eyes saddened. He wondered if she'd seen inside his head for a moment...seen the little lonely boy he'd once been.

"What's the matter?" Her head tipped to the side and she folded her fingers in his and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "You look like you just saw a ghost."

"Actually," he took a breath and squeezed her hand back before he led her to the couch. "I'm happy." As he sat down, he pulled her onto his lap and smiled when she tugged a camouflage santa hat over her wavy brown hair. "I'm just really happy."

They'd been together for almost two months and he hadn't gotten around to telling her about his past. From what he knew about her childhood, it seemed she'd been raised well and strongly, but a woman who did the best she could in bad circumstances. Though he often criticized people for taking family for granted, Elena claimed she wasn't so close with her family because they 'just didn't understand her.' At least she had a family that tried.

"I bought some cornish hens," she wiggled off his lap and hopped onto the floor, tracking her now bare feet through the melted snow puddles on her kitchen floor. She looked back at him with a smile and he pulled off his boots and tossed them to the side, squinting one eye closed in an adorable apology, which she accepted with a smile.

"I bought some cranberry wine because you really seemed to enjoy it over Thanksgiving," she called from the kitchen, pulling open the oven door to peek inside. She'd prepared them, and all of the other sides, while she'd waited for him to get to her apartment. "Would you like a glass?"

"That'd be great." His eyes switched back and forth between Elena and the tree, glowing in the dimly lit apartment. She glowed beneath the dome light of the oven's overhead, and he was enough of a sentimental fool that night to believe she really was his angel.

A cool glass of wine pressed into his hand as she sat next to him on the couch, moving the ball of her santa hat out to the other side of her head so there was nothing between them. She leaned back and sighed, staring relaxingly at the glowing tree before them. "The birds will be done soon. I hope you're hungry. I actually mashed the potatoes myself."

"You have no idea what this means to me," he said quickly.

"They're just potatoes, Damon," she smirked and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Not the potatoes." He took a breath and paused. "I mean, that's great, too. I just mean all of it. This," he waved his hand around, gesturing to the stockings and the tree and the little gift below it that he hadn't noticed before. He swallowed dryly, almost losing his nerve. "I didn't expect this."

"Like I'd let Christmas be ruined because of a little bad weather," she smiled brightly. She seemed light and free and he admired it; he couldn't remember her ever looking so calm. It was almost disarming, like the calm before a storm. "And really, it's no big deal."

She just had no idea. Not that it was her fault. She knew very little about his time before the military and she'd never pushed. But he loved her, and because of it, he wanted her to know. All of it. He wanted to share a piece of himself with someone that he never had before.

So after they'd finished their dinner and had two glasses of wine, they found themselves curled up on the floor, with their backs against her couch. Her feet bumped playfully into his as she flipped on the radio to some station playing non-stop holiday music and he smiled. For once in his life, as the people were singing about love and family and being home for Christmas, he actually understood.

"Hold this," she whispered as she handed him her now empty wine glass. She pressed a kiss to his cheek and smirked before she crawled over to the tree and pulled the small wrapped box from under the tree. Folding her legs into a pretzel again, she presented him with the gift with wide, beautiful eyes.

"You shouldn't have," he said. He hadn't even wrapped hers. It was coiled up in his pocket and he wasn't even sure he wanted to give it to her. Not because he didn't love her; he was just afraid of what she'd say when he did.

"Oh, whatever," she rolled her eyes and set it into his hands. "Just say thank you."

"Thank you," he smiled as his heart slammed into his ribs. He lifted the lid to reveal a small knife, engraved with his last name. It looked expensive and he suddenly wished he'd gotten her something a little more expensive; she'd never seemed like the type to wear jewelry. "This is great."

"I'm glad," she sighed, relieved. "Caroline said it was stupid, but then again, what does she know?" Her cheeks were pink and he leaned in to kiss each one.

"I love it. Really," his fingers smoothed over the side of the blade, and in the reflection of the shiny steel, he saw how nervous he looked. "I...got something for you, too." He slid the lid back onto the box holding his gift and set it to the side. She bit her lip as he dug into his front right pocket, pulling out the gift in his now balled fist.

"Now it's your turn to close your eyes," he managed, feeling somewhat stupid. When she listened, his shaky hands reached above her head and slid the chain onto her neck. He'd been holding the tags, and when she opened her eyes and grabbed for that hand, shock registered on her face.

"Salvatore," she blinked. "Damon..."

"It's...they aren't official. I know some of the guys have them for their wives or girlfriends..." he said quickly. "And if you don't want it, I'll take it back."

"What are you trying to tell me?" Her voice shook. "Because if this is the way you're trying to tell me you've been deployed...that you're leaving me..." He saw her eyes glaze over with tears and his heart broke.

"No!" he blurted out. His hands slid onto the side of her neck and pulled her into a deep kiss. He shook his head when the kiss broke and released a breath. "Of course not, baby. I'm not going anywhere." Her shoulders relaxed and she slid a tear off her cheek. The panic that had flared in her eyes at the sheer idea of him leaving surprised him. For as nonchalant as she seemed about their situation, she'd looked like the world was about to end. As flattering as it felt, it was also terrifying.

"Okay," she breathed, and he watched her hand trace down to her abdomen absentmindedly.

"I'm not giving this to you to say goodbye," he started, courage rising up in his chest. "In fact, I'm not superstitious or anything, but I'm kind of hoping if I give these to you, I'll get put somewhere easy." he winked.

"Don't even joke about it," she said with a sad smile.

"You know I'll go somewhere, someday," he said softly, tracing the backs of his fingers down her cheek. "Now that my ankle is healed up and I'm back up to speed. "It's the business we're in; it doesn't mean I won't come home."

"I know that," she said quickly, shaking her head. "You think I don't know that? I'm a living, breathing example of it, Damon..."

"Shhh," he shook his head, desperate to get out the words he'd been wanting to say. "I know, Lena." His forehead touched hers just as Louie Armstrong started singing about the world being a wonderful place.

"Can we please just not talk about it tonight?" She asked as he reached for her hand again, but he moved it slowly, working his way up to touch the tag hanging around her neck.

"I want you to know...I need you to know," he swallowed. "That I'm just so happy when I'm with you, Elena. And I know we've been moving kind of fast and I'm not trying to scare you. But I made you promise to always be honest with me, so I need to do the same for you."

"I don't know, Damon. I don't know..."

She tried to look down, but he tipped her chin up with his finger until she met his eyes.

"And that's okay," he kissed her lips once. "But I _do_ know. I'm in love with you, Elena." he paused. "I love you."

She bit her lip and covered her eyes for a second, as if trying to sort things out. She almost seemed upset that he'd said it, but when she pulled her hand away and looked up at him again, her eyes were shiny. Her breathing quickened.

"I'm afraid," was all she could manage, but he understood; she'd never wanted to be in anything so serious. But she _was_ in it. Her eyes said it all.

"I know we didn't plan on this. And honestly...I'm a little afraid, too, because I know what this could mean. But I wouldn't change a thing. Just say you'll do this with me...tell me you'll let me love you," he pled, before he felt her lips against his, kissing him in a way that felt brand new. When they broke apart, he pulled her onto his lap. He hadn't needed to hear the words back, and honestly, he hadn't expected to. He'd just needed to tell her.

"I've never been this close to someone. And I want you to know me. All of me. If you'll listen," he began.

"Of course I will," she whispered. She pulled off her hat and smoothed out her hair as he took a deep breath and scooted back up against the couch.

"I don't remember much before I was 5, but I do remember the day my Mom walked out of the house, saying she was going to the neighbor's for some coffee, and never came back. We lived in Chicago then. I was born in New York and we moved. We were always moving.

"Dad was in and out a lot, for business stuff...that's what my older brother always said, at least. I believed him, too, because I had no reason in the world not to. He made me dinner at night, even if it was just macaroni and cheese or peanut butter sandwiches. In the morning, he made sure I tied my shoes and brushed my teeth so no one at school would know what was really going on at home.

"But then I got older and saw some of the kids in my class with their dads, who were also businessmen, and I started to wonder what kind of business let my Dad come to work in jeans, a holey white t-shirt, and a fake leather jacket. He was never home at night, and in the daytime, he slept. Stefan said he worked third shift, but he never said why or what he did, so I just believed him, because no one else talked to me and I had to trust someone. Stefan said I shouldn't ask questions, because all that mattered is we had food to eat and weren't homeless, and that Dad had to work harder than a lot of people in the world because Mom left us. So I should just be thankful...

"By the time I was 12, my brother was 19 and had started classes at a community college. I did my homework on my own because I wanted to do well in school. I had a few friends I talked to in my classes, but their parents never let them invite me over to their houses without talking to my parents...and my brother didn't count as permission. Probably the best kid I knew was this guy named Alaric. Sometimes we'd play basketball after school until he said he had to go home for dinner or his parents would be upset. I didn't know how that felt, but I figured he was probably right and I didn't want him to get in trouble. We still talk.

"But anyway, things went on like this for awhile, until the police showed up at my door one day when I was 14, and told my brother that my Dad had shown up dead in an alley just four blocks away. I'm sure I don't have to tell you the kind of business he was in," he cringed and swallowed.

She nuzzled against him and kissed his jaw gently before wrapping her fingers with his as he continued. She was soft and comforting without any words.

"Later I'd found out he'd been connected to a gang, drugs...so much shit that I couldn't believe he'd survived doing at as long as he had. And then I just felt dirty, for using money he'd earned by killing and stealing and God knows what else," he paused.

"When it all went down, it was the summer before my freshman year of high school. They tried to put me in foster care, saying my brother wasn't able to take care of me after an assessment they'd done on him with a sociologist. And I wasn't too close to my family, by any means, but I knew I didn't want to show up at someone else's door and expect them to love me because my own family really didn't know how. So I stayed a few nights in August with this family who'd really wanted to foster an infant or at least a toddler, because the room I stayed in was light blue and yellow and had bunnies on the wall. After two nights I left, because I knew they wanted me there even less than I wanted to be there. And as you can imagine, I had people out looking for me.

"What I really wanted, was to be on my own. So I found a phone and I called Stefan and told him I was fine and asked him if we could just move somewhere else and hide from everyone who said we couldn't be together. He agreed, reluctantly, to meet me in New York. He said he'd be there in a week and that I should just lay low and use some of the money I'd saved to get a hotel. You should know I looked older than I really was...at least by a few years...so when I found this young girl running a desk at a motel just outside of the city, I flirted with her until she let me book a room, without an ID. She said it was her Dad's business and she could do whatever she wanted.

"I spent a week in New York, eating cheap hot dogs and sandwiches from vendors. I used very little cash because I wanted to save what I could so my brother and I could get a place out there and try to start over. We'd agreed to meet at a pizza place around the corner from the hotel I'd been staying at. I got there early, in case he did. I drank endless cups of free water, earning me dagger eyes from the waitresses, but I told them I was waiting for my brother, and we'd order a pizza when he got there in an hour. And I really believed it, because I didn't think he really wanted to live on his own either.

"They let me stay until they had to turn out the lights in the restaurant and I told them he must've mixed up which corner pizza restaurant to meet me on. But I knew. He wasn't coming. So I went to the police station and turned myself in as a missing person. An orphan."

"I'm sorry," she managed. He shook his head. "So you just stayed in New York?"

"I had no family. Why did it matter where I lived anymore? I didn't belong anywhere...and at the time, I couldn't go back to Chicago. I couldn't deal with it. Someday I'll go back, maybe. To visit."

"And your brother...Stefan," she swallowed. "Do you hear from him?"

"Never," he said quickly. "I just couldn't understand how he could take care of me, be my brother, and then one day just leave. Just like my Mom. I still don't get it. He doesn't know where I am. He doesn't even know I'm in the military. After that moment at the pizza place, I realized I no longer had a family.

"So I went through a bunch of foster homes after that, but none of them were really the kind of dream you hear about. I never stayed long enough to really form a kind of attachment...I actually started to feel like I was in the way, though I'm sure some of the families wouldn't have wanted me to feel that way. So on big days, like Thanksgiving and Christmas and my birthday, I'd make myself scarce. I'd shut down completely, to the point where they couldn't force me to spend time with them. The thing was...I didn't have those kinds of special things with my real family...and I couldn't stand the thought of having them with people I probably wouldn't know in a year. No one wanted to adopt a teenager, especially not one with mood swings like I had.

"And when I was 17, I enlisted. I didn't have anything better to do. I mean, I could've gone to college. Despite everything else going on, I did attend only two different high schools and my grades were good enough. But I just kept thinking about all the bad in the world...and all the people that did have families...and I decided I'd flip a coin. If it landed heads, I was in. Why shouldn't I be, you know? I didn't have anything to lose. And maybe in a way...maybe I joined because of my Dad, too. He did so much harm...I just wanted to undo it all..."

His heart was torn open by the end, real and exposed for her to see and take as it was.

"So I'm not kidding when I say I really appreciate you doing this," he looked around the room, at the tree again, and stocking. "Because this is the first real Christmas I've ever really had, ever really wanted. Even now, as an adult, I just usually try to pretend its like any other day, because it's all it ever really has been to me. Until now,"

"So why me?" She smiled. "Why would you give _me_ your very first Christmas," her voice was shaky and she suddenly looked almost guilty. He couldn't imagine why. Had he frightened her?

"Did you forget already?" He winked. "Because I love you," he smiled. "You're the most important person in the world to me. And I trust you," he wrapped his arms around tightly, but she felt rigid and his heart began to slam harder as he wondered if he'd just stunned her into panic.

He released her gently, saying he needed to use the restroom. In the mirror, he looked about as relieved as he felt. He'd just thrown a lot on her plate...love...history...but it just felt so good to get it off his chest. He knew what he wanted. He wanted to make something of them, when this was all over.

And for the first time, he realized he was afraid, too. He knew it was inevitable, but he didn't want to be deployed. He couldn't. Not now. Not when he'd finally found someone that he believed might love him back. The world just wasn't that cruel. Was it?

He turned the hot water on and let it soak into his skin as he thought. Elena knocked softly at the door and opened it slowly. "You okay in here?"

"Fine," he said softly, but the smile on her face couldn't mask the worry brewing in her eyes. Something was up. Something big. But he didn't have him in it to ask her that night, so he told himself he might just be paranoid. "Everything's going to be fine."

"Good. Come on to bed," she said as he wiped his hands on a towel. She took his hand and led him to her room, where he noticed a new picture of them hanging on her wall. It was one they'd taken on their own...off center and a little fuzzy. The sun had been shining and from the angle, it was hard to tell if their cheeks were pink from heat or nasty wind. It made it timeless, just like them. Just like they'd always be, he thought.

* * *

_**Elena – Present Day – Christmas Eve**_

"And this next present is for...Izzy!" Elena said as her tiny niece squealed and jumped into her lap. "How'd you get so many presents anyway?" She tickled her, her own cheeks hurting from smiling so widely.

Moments like this reminded her of how easy it was to be happy. Yes, there was a whole world of a mess going on outside of these walls, but now, with her family, she couldn't help but feel blessed.

"What do you want for Christmas?" Izzy asked Elena, wide-eyed.

She couldn't push him out of her head, of course, because she'd never could. And she didn't want to, no matter what he said. But he wanted time and space, and when this had all started up again a few months back, she'd acted like it was going to be simple...just being his friend.

If that's all he wanted, she would do it. She wanted him in her life, though it would take awhile to get over the possibilities always lingering between them. And she couldn't forget. She'd never forget what they'd been and what she'd wanted them to be so long ago. They'd lost those people, somewhere along the line. But she still loved him the same way she had then, and that meant she'd do anything in the world to make him happy. Even stay away for a little while.

A knock at the big front door saved her from having to answer her niece's question. The clock on the wall read 8:30, and Izzy yawned and rubbed her eyes as Elena set her on the couch and tucked her under a blanket. She smiled at Jeremy and April, then at her mother.

"I'll get the door."

"It's probably Martha," Miranda said, mentioning the neighbor. "She said she'd be over with some cookies later. Just say thank you and tell he we're wrapping up for the night. I don't know what would make her come over this late..." her mother's words faded as she stepped into the entryway and opened the door.

She'd forgotten to click on the porch light, but the snow made it bright enough for her to see. Through the flakes falling wildly in the sky, she saw him.

"Damon," she managed. She could hear her blood rushing through her ears, feel her pulse slamming in her neck. Of all the things in the world to happen that night, she hadn't expected this. "Are you okay? I thought you'd be with Alaric."

She shivered in the wind, but stepped outside on the porch and closed the door behind her so no one else could hear or see them. Her arms folded across her chest and she waited, looking up at him. "Say something. You're scaring me," she frowned. But then she felt his hands on the small of her back and her face pressed against his chest. He was hugging her. On his own.

He buried his face in her neck. "I know I shouldn't be here...I know we're a mess..." _But I love you_, she imagined the words she wished he would say.

His nose was cold and she smiled at the contact. But then he shifted a little and she felt his warm lips kiss her just below her ear...and there was nothing comforting about it this time. It was warm and promising, and his hot breath almost made her forget what year it was, where they were, and what had happened in the time between.

It was just a little kiss. Not even on the lips. It probably didn't mean a thing. She should've pulled away and questioned what was going on before she let her imagination run wild, but she didn't. And even if it all went away again tomorrow, she wanted to feel like this tonight. She closed her eyes, because it felt good. He nuzzled his nose against her ear and she knew he caught the scent of perfume she'd put on. It had always been his favorite.

She felt his lips turn up into a small smile against her cheek before he said,

"I'm sorry, Elena."

A lump of nerves slid down her throat. "I know it's not right and it's not fair to just show up like this...not after what's been going on between us lately. I panicked that night. I freaked out, and I'm sorry. But it's Christmas. And I shouldn't ask you to leave your family to spend Christmas with me...but I am."

"You know I would," she said seriously and he blew out a relieved breath.

"I don't like Christmas without you...I can't stand it without you..." he said honestly.

And with that, she let her guard down. She couldn't spend Christmas without him, either. Not anymore. And she knew what it meant, and what spending this night with him meant. It meant they'd have to think about Christmas Day, and that meant certain things might come up again...and it might hurt. But that was okay, because it was a part of who they'd been and who they were now.

"Just give me a few minutes to tell them and say goodbye," she said, his face still so close to hers. She knew nothing would happen. Not like _that _at least. It was a big step just for him to seek her out like this. She'd be okay with sitting next to him, talking into the wee hours of the morning about absolutely nothing. She wouldn't rush into a thing, because that was a sure fire way to lose him for good.

She pulled away a little and put her hand on the doorknob to reenter when he reached out and held onto her wrist. "Elena..." she stopped, praying he wasn't going to change his mind. "Thank you," he smiled.

With that, she nodded and went back to him, pulling him tighter against her until his forehead fell onto her shoulder and she clawed her fingers through the back of his hair. She held onto him for dear life, treasuring him and them, because there had never been a better Christmas present in the world.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading!


	12. The Violet Hour

**A/N: Big stuff in this chapter, so get ready. The chapter is split in half between past and present, and each lends a bigger, better understanding to the relationship that is Damon and Elena.**

**I picked "The Violet Hour" by the Civil Wars. It's an instrumental that is so completely beautiful and I couldn't pick anything less for such a chapter as this. The melody is soft and haunting and makes you feel both happy and sad. Give it a listen. It's so worth it. Thanks again for reading and also for your reviews! **

* * *

**Through The Ghost**

**Chapter 11: The Violet Hour**

**_Christmas Day Morning - 2008_**

Damon's eyes flittered open, adjusting to the bands of brightness shining through bedroom window. Outside, the wind was wild and uninviting, but it swirled the snow in beautiful patterns worthy only of Christmas morning. Slowly, his surroundings came back to him.

The rattling of a heater as it kicked up a notch. The upstairs neighbor's shower running. The glow of the twinkling lights strung around her window that they'd forgotten to turn off the night before. Soft, fleece blankets and the woman nestled beneath them. She was on her side, facing him. The tips of her bare shoulder peeked out just enough for him to kiss. As her eyes blinked open and her lips turned up into a sleepy smile, a new warmth spread through his chest. He'd woken with a feeling he'd never believed was meant for him.

Happiness.

"Merry Christmas," he said sweetly. Their bare feet tangled under the covers as he stared at her. He'd never understood the magic feeling of Christmas morning as a child, but all those people had been right. There was something different today. Today was the first day she'd woken up knowing he loved her. Her eyes were softer and warmer than they'd been before, so he knew she remembered.

"Merry Christmas," she snuggled in closer to him and pressed her ear to his chest. His fingertips slid from her shoulder blades down the length of her back until he reached the base of her spine, then repeated the process in reverse. The motion soothed him, lulling him back to sleep for awhile. And there was peace until he was jarred awake.

"Elena?" Her name rasped from his lips as he sat up quickly. He was alone. Her side of the bed was empty, but the sheets were still warm. The sound of the shower calmed him, but he still couldn't shake the feeling of unease swirling in his gut.

He released a breath and slid out of bed and into a pair of sweatpants from his duffel on the floor. He flexed his back and his eyes caught her dresser. A photo of them sat atop it, along with his keys, wallet and watch. They realness of it all kicked in; he was in love with her. This was but a sliver of the life they could lead if they kept going.

He slipped a grey Army t-shirt over his head and headed into the bathroom, set to brush his teeth before she made it out of the shower so he could put on a pot of coffee. The steam was hot and he couldn't see himself in the mirror, so he grabbed a wash cloth on the sink and swiped at a few times until it was clear.

"I didn't hear you get up," he said as he squirted a line of toothpaste onto the brush he'd began leaving there two weeks before. "Everything okay?"

"Fine," she answered from behind the shower. But the bad vibe still stung within him. He was just about to chalk it up to a predisposed negative feeling on Christmas, when he saw the toilet. The seat was up and against the tank and he frowned. He was positive he'd put the seat down after he'd used the bathroom the night before. His eyes landed on a damp wash cloth on the floor next to it and then it hit him.

"Were you sick?" He set his toothbrush down on the counter and slid the shower door open. Water droplets were stuck in her eyelashes as she glanced at him, but she looked away quickly and let the spray rinse the shampoo out of her thick hair. And that was answer enough. When it came to Elena, her silence could be deafening.

"Was it the wine?" He asked.

"I don't know," she said softly. "I'm fine, but I'm cold. Can you please close the door? I'll be out in a minute."

Feeling the coolness in her voice, he knew it was time to back off. They were warmer and better than ever, but it didn't change the fact that she was still a very private person. He was far more open with her than she ever was with him, and he accepted that. This was nothing but a stiff reminder that life didn't become easy and perfect the minute you fell in love.

He brushed his teeth quickly and put it out of his mind. She'd promised to be honest with him, so he needed to trust her. It was just so strange how she'd switched from his sweet, sleepy Elena to this in a matter of less than half an hour.

He dreamed up something sweet. Killing the coffee plans, he decided on tea to settle her stomach. He pushed the toast down in the toaster and started heating the kettle of water on her stove. And then he waited.

The kettle was starting its slow, soft whistle. The water would soon be done, but she hadn't come out of the bathroom yet. Elena wasn't one to tinker around. She was a military woman. In and out of the shower. He doubted she was in there putting on make-up when she'd just been sick. He took a last glance at the stove and decided he'd check on her.

He found her dressing in her bedroom, the bathroom door cracked open. "I'm making you some toast and tea," he said softly as she pulled a sweater over her head.

This love stuff was strange. He found himself wanting, needing to protect her. To make it okay.

She could be as tough as she wanted, but he wanted her to know that she wasn't alone anymore. It felt nice to love someone this way. It was fulfilling in so many ways.

"That sounds good," she smiled, catching the nervous look in his eyes.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"I'm sorry I snapped at you."

That wasn't an answer, he thought. She tugged a comb through her wavy hair and cringed as it caught. "I'm okay. I pushed it really hard the other day at the gym. I think I overdid it. It always goes away after I eat," she insisted.

"You need to be careful. That doesn't sound right," he shook his head. "You should get checked out. Maybe take a few days to relax."

"I'm fine," she shrugged. "It's just a little stress. It's happened before. I need to eat better and sleep better. You know me. I'll be fine."

"I still don't like it. Why did you say something sooner?"

"I didn't want you to worry. It's not a big deal," she repeated. "If it gets worse, I'll get it taken care of, okay?" She pressed a kiss to his lips and looked up at him gently. "Stop worrying, Damon."

"Can't promise that," the words left his lips as a sigh before he left a small kiss on her cheek. "When you're all set, come back out to the kitchen and eat. We can cancel our plans for the day if you want. I'd rather stay in and take care of you than traipse around in the cold if you feel sick. We can spend the holiday in bed watching movies."

"No way," she flashed him a grin as she squeezed a line of toothpaste on her toothbrush. "We're seeing that tree." With that, she stuck the toothbrush in her mouth, ending all conversation.

"You're bullheaded," he said with twinkling eyes.

"Duh," she said through the bubbles of her toothpaste after she'd leaned into the sink to spit once. She popped the toothbrush back into her mouth and began again.

Yeah. She was stubborn as hell. If she wanted to do something, she did it and God help the man who tried to convince her otherwise. It was these times he wondered why how she could let her past dictate so many of her life decisions. In the months he'd known her, she'd been out to prove something. Sometimes it was that she was good enough, though he never knew who she thought she was up against.

Other times it was that she was okay on her own...but she'd been nearly frantic when she'd thought his gift of the dog tags had been his way of telling her it was time to say goodbye for awhile. In many ways, the worst battle she fought was against herself. Self-doubt.

But he loved her...all of her...even the stubborn, frustrating parts. And he knew why. She was real, and when they were together, there was nothing more real in the world. Her rawness was something foreign to him. In all of his time with them, his family hadn't made him feel half as important as this one woman had in a few short months. And for as stubborn as she was, she let him in. Slowly, gradually their hearts were becoming one.

The loud whistle of the kettle pulled him away from her. As he made his way back into the kitchen, he found two pieces of blackened bread in the toaster. Her dial had been turned to 'darkest,' for whatever reason, and he'd let it go far too long. Sighing, he pulled the pieces out of the toaster and opened the lid of the garbage to toss them in. His eyes caught on the empty bottle of wine in the recyclable bin next to it, and his head started spinning...thinking...

_It goes away after I eat. _

He hadn't noticed her sick any other time of day. Come to think of it, there _had_ been those two times right after Thanksgiving that they'd been in so much of a rush they hadn't used protection. Elena wasn't the type of woman to walk into the pharmacy with a prescription for birth control...

"Hey," she said softly as she entered the room. Her arms were wound around her stomach and she looked like hell in a tiny package. His stomach crumpled with new worry, but he pushed on.

"I left your toast in too long. Sit down. I'll make you another piece."

Something was up and he was smart enough to put the clues together. He just couldn't stand the thought that she might be hiding it from him or lying to him. He really didn't want to be the one to bring it up. That wasn't how it was supposed to work.

His happy glow from earlier was starting to wear off as panic began to settle in. Every second he stared at her he just kept thinking of what she'd said in the bathroom.

_If it gets much worse I'll get it taken care of, okay?_ Her words kicked him solidly in the gut. He hated assuming things, but when he added it up, he had a hard time believing it could be anything else.

Once her new toast had popped up at a perfect golden brown, he plated it and set it next to her mug. His fingers drummed on the table nervously as he watched her until he couldn't take it anymore. Either his mind was playing tricks on him, or she was rubbing her abdomen uncomfortably for a reason.

"I think I'm going to take a shower," he said quickly, hopping out of his chair before she could respond and hauled off to the bathroom. Once inside, his heart started slamming. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. Searching for a towel, he opened her linen closet. And maybe it wasn't his business to go through her things, but the little blue box in the back corner of her closet certainty was. He gulped, noticing the top flap of it open.

He hadn't wanted to be right.

"Jesus, Elena," he said in an angry whisper. He snatched the box from the back of the closet and peeked inside. One stick remained of the three pack. With closed eyes, he ran his hand over his hair, telling himself to pull his shit together before he went out there and lost it on her.

How could look him in the eye and lie just minutes ago? Had she planned to tell him at all? Did she really think he was stupid enough to believe she'd worn herself to the bone working out? She was in the Army. The girl knew her limits. Tightening his hand around the box just enough to not crush it, he stormed back into the kitchen, where he found Elena sitting at the table, staring at her toast as if it was the most disgusting thing on the planet.

"When were you going to tell me?" He said calmly, but his heart was beating so hard in his ears he wasn't sure he'd be able to hear her answer.

Her eyes flicked from her plate to him, then to the box, and she went sheet white. She set her mug of hot tea down and shook her head as tears filled her eyes. Wonderful. Great.

"How could you keep this from me?" His voice nearly cracked, but he held on to his control. She stood up and walked to him slowly, pulling the box from his fingers and setting it on the counter. His eyes burned like fire as they filled with worry. Suddenly loving this woman hurt.

He wasn't angry about the baby, just devastated she didn't tell him. He trusted her with everything and she'd always been more closed off. This was different. She didn't trust him enough to tell him this one huge, possibly life changing thing.

Her hands landed on his shoulders and she squeezed gently as she stared into his fiery eyes. "I'm not pregnant," she swallowed. "I took two tests. Both said no. I'm exhausted and that's _it_." But her voice was sad and hollow, as if she didn't believe it herself.

"Are you late?" He swallowed.

"Yes. A week. But like I said, my body has been under a lot of stress. That can do it, too."

"So you might be pregnant and you were drinking? I was sitting next to you, encouraging it. I filled up your glass, for God's sake!" He snapped away from her and grabbed the empty bottle from the bin, lifting it once to emphasize before letting it crash into the other glass. It shattered and she startled. "Please don't lie to me..." he shook his head. "Tell me what's really going on."

"I haven't been to the doctor. The tests told me no both times so that's what I'm going with."

"So you weren't going to tell me that there was even a chance," he said matter-of-factly. "You were just going to deal with this on your own and I'd never know."

"I don't know," she said through a broken voice. "I don't know."

"And the morning sickness? That hasn't gone away, so you must still believe there's a chance. You're smarter than this, Elena."

"No. I overdid it at the gym, like I said..."

"You have no _business_ in the gym, Elena," his voice escalated for a minute and her eyes flared. He swallowed, realizing how loud he'd gotten, and gritted his teeth together before he continued. With a breath, he tried to relax. Her eyes were full of tears and he hated it, but at the same time, he was too upset that she'd kept it from him to feel too bad for her. "Those tests were wrong. You're going to the doctor. Tomorrow."

"No, Damon. I'm not," she shook her head. "I'm not pregnant."

She was in denial. Big time. And yeah, he wasn't about to throw a _we're_ _having a baby_ announcement party, either. They were still a pretty well-kept secret as far as the rest of the base was concerned. Things would be sticky, but they were adults and they would deal with it. It was their mistake.

Maybe that was the problem. Elena always wanted to fix mistakes. She just didn't always pick the best way to do it.

"Just because you don't want to be pregnant doesn't mean you aren't," he said seriously. "This is my baby, too." As he said it, it began to sink in. "What would you have done if the test had said yes?"

"I don't know. This isn't the way it was supposed to go. I'm not ready for this. I guess if it had been positive I would've had to decide."

"Decide _what?_" His eyes widened.

"What to do. It's my choice," she said through glassy eyes. "And I'm not going to get into something I don't want to. I'm not a mother, Damon. I'm just not." She blinked at him and he felt his heart snap in two. "Look at me. You know I'm right. My life has been planned out for as long as I can remember. This isn't part of the plan."

"Neither was I," he said softly, making a point. She closed her eyes and a slid down her cheek. She swept it away and moved on, ignoring what he'd said.

"We don't have to worry, because it's not a problem anymore. If I don't get better, I'll get checked out and we'll go from there. It's early enough yet."

"An abortion," he said flatly.

"Oh come on, Damon. You don't want a baby, either."

"No," he smiled angrily. "Not really. But if I _have_ one," his hand slid onto her abdomen and she backed away, uncomfortably. "If I have one, I'm sure as hell not going to let you get rid of it." The words came out more harshly than he'd meant them to, and it had sent her over the edge. "Damn it, Elena. You were going to push yourself too hard, weren't you? You were going to ignore this until it was plain and obvious in front of you and then you were going to run off and do something about it without fucking telling me." She blinked at him. "That hurts."

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I'm sorry. But there's no baby so it doesn't matter. You're getting worked up for nothing." she said after a minute. She was right. He was getting worked up. And in the process, he was getting her worked up, too, which was really not good for the baby. Because there _was_ a baby. He was sure of it.

"Take a shower. Get dressed. We're going to that tree. We're going to have a nice Christmas. And then we're going to go on living as we have been," she plead.

"How can you say that?" He frowned. However scary it was, a baby was family, and family wasn't supposed to let each other down. He wouldn't let his little one down...if it existed. His family had abandoned him, and even if this little person was too small to even know it, he couldn't stand the thought of never knowing him or her.

He could never be like them. She just didn't understand.

"I love you. But baby, you're pushing it here. You're too stubborn for your own good. You're right; this isn't ideal. There are a whole mess of problems that could stem from this. But what's done is done and we need to be responsible about this. If you're pregnant, we'll figure this out. Together."

Was he scared? Hell yes. He was terrified. He wasn't a father. He didn't know what a father was supposed to actually do. He'd do the exact opposite of what his Dad had done and that would have to work.

The last day and half had actually been exhausting, come to think of it. He'd poured his past out to her, told her he loved her. Maybe that's why this hurt so badly. He'd been willing to give his whole self to her, yet she'd kept this from him. She'd kissed him and made love to him knowing she might be carrying his baby...that he might have a new family to love. And she'd acted like it was her secret to keep. He could and would forgive her, but...how could she do this to them? All of them...

She bit her lip nervously and he sighed. "Promise me, Elena. You won't go off and make a reckless decision without talking to me. Let me come with you to the doctor. It'll be okay."

"I'm not going on base," she said firmly. "I don't want anyone to know."

"They're going to find out. You can't keep doing what you've been doing. It's not healthy. You can't push yourself. Not until we know for sure. Just promise me you're with me on this, that you won't keep anything from me anymore. Please, Lena. You don't understand what this means to me..."

His lungs deflated in worry as she didn't answer him. She pressed her head into his bare chest and sobbed. It wasn't a confirmation or a promise at all. He never really knew what she was going to do. Sick with worry and frustration, he rested his chin on the top of her brown hair and let her cry.

And it was horrible, but he didn't feel like comforting her. He wasn't angry about the baby...just the lies...just the way she wanted to handle it. But he loved her, no matter what, and they'd just hit another bump in the road of their relationship. It got him wondering where they were going next.

"I think I'd rather just stay home today," he said softly when her tears stopped falling. They'd sat down at the kitchen table a few minutes before. He sipped his coffee slowly, hoping things would make more sense or be easier with a little caffeine. They weren't of course. While Elena was nibbling her toast at a snail's pace and sipping her tea as if she might throw up again at any given moment, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the pregnancy test box on the counter.

"I think you should take the third test. Today. After breakfast."

"Not today," she said quickly. "I really, _really_ don't want to think about it today. I'd like to just have a nice Christmas. I've ruined everything as it is. I am sorry Damon. Sorry for everything."

He bit his tongue before he could say any more. He didn't agree with her, but he didn't want to upset her more. And while it seemed so easy for Elena to put it out of her head, it wasn't so simple for him. He decided he'd eat some breakfast, too, so he popped a frozen egg and bacon sandwich in the microwave and got lost in the glowing light.

A baby. With Elena Gilbert.

He pulled his sandwich out quickly and threw it on a plate. When he sat down to take the first bite, Elena beelined it to the bathroom again. She was down on the floor, retching into the bowl when he got there. Seeing her sick knocked him in the stomach. Hard. So he forgot his frustrations and crouched down by her, holding her hair out of the way.

"You can't go on this way, Elena. We deserve to know," he whispered.

She pressed her hand to the lever and flushed before she rested her forearms on the toilet and threw her head against them, sobbing harder than before. He wrapped his arms around waist gently and pulled her back into his lap, where he let her stay until she finally cried herself to sleep. He carried her to her bed and pulled the covers up over her. When she rolled over a few hours later looking much calmer than before, he told himself to drop it for now. It's what she wanted.

"Merry Christmas, baby," he said softly. She looked at him confused, as if she was unsure if he was talking to her or the potential baby. Maybe it was both.

She was still beautiful...still Elena. And she was as scared as he was, if not more. He loved her enough to let her have her way for the day. Despite what she'd said, she hadn't ruined Christmas at all. If anything, the past two days had been the most emotional days of his life. He never wanted to spend another Christmas without her; he just didn't think he could. Hell, if he had his way, he'd never spend another night or day without her.

She was his life now and together they would make it work.

* * *

**_Christmas Eve – Present Day_**

"Just look at it. It's amazing," Elena smiled up at the big, brightly lit Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree. "I see it every single year and it never gets old. I mean when you walk past it on a regular day, it's just not the same, you know?" She blew her hot breath into her thinly gloved hands and smiled up at him. In the glow of the lights, his eyes shimmered. "When I was a little girl, my Mom used to bring us here really late on Christmas. It had to be like midnight or something. Kind of like this. She told me once we got home, if we went to bed nicely without argument, Santa would come," she paused. "Maybe Jere still believed, but I think she was really trying to keep some magic in my life after Dad died. I think she needed me to believe in miracles. I think she needed to believe in them, too."

The tree was nothing if not magical. She looked beautiful and free below the lights and happy, like a child who'd just gotten something she'd been waiting for all year. She bounced on her tiptoes to stay warm, and after her hands to fell her sides, he took a chance and wound one of them in his. She didn't turn to him like she thought he would, but a smile curved her lips and he knew what he'd done was okay. Good, even.

Her focus stayed on the tree as she continued to talk. "We've been coming here with Izzy since she was born, but not as a late. They came here earlier but I stayed home and watched the oven. With you being back here, I just couldn't...It just hasn't felt the same without you, Damon." The freezing air made it hard to tell if she was just really cold or her voice was shaking from emotions. "I'm so glad you found me." She looked at him finally with warm, safe eyes that told him he was a fool for being so passive about her. About them. All the thoughts he'd had about her before were clear and bright.

She shivered as he stared at her, and he squeezed her shaking hand a little more tightly. What the hell could even say? He couldn't put what he felt into words. It would sound sad or pitiful or maybe even ridiculous. Just a few weeks ago he'd been so adamant about them being just friends and them needing to relax. Now here he was with her, trying not to spin her around and kiss her right here, under the tree in front of all of New York. That's the kind of thing she did to his head; she was an explosion. It didn't have to make sense.

He'd spent so much time four years ago telling her not to punish herself, to not be so hard on herself. To live. Now here he was, doing the same thing she'd done. What was it about them that made it so hard to just be happy? Were they sick? Why did they find the smallest, stupidest reasons to keep from just being together? For her, so long ago, it had been all about her plans. She'd always needed to stay on track.

Then he'd stormed into her life, fallen in love with her, and everything she thought she wanted came to a screeching halt. The day after Christmas she'd come home from some planned parenthood clinic outside of the city with red rimmed, swollen eyes and a cloth bag full of pamphlets and vitamin samples. He'd been sitting on her couch, waiting. She'd told him she didn't want him to go with her, which had hurt him more than he let on. He was just happy she'd gone. He stood to greet her but she'd dropped the cloth bag on the floor, right in front of his feet. She'd cried herself dry on the way home, he figured, because her eyes were still as she said the words that would forever change their lives.

_You were right. _As if it were a competition. As if he'd throw it in her face. _I'm pregnant._

He hadn't known how it would turn out then, but four years later he knew exactly how it ended. He still considered that one of the biggest moments of his life. Even now, when most would say it no longer mattered.

He'd forgiven her lies and secrets about the baby so easily; dismissed them as if they'd been excusable. The second she'd looked at him with horror and panic at the reality of the situation, he'd been her support, her rock. And they'd started in on a journey that would forever tie them together.

Tragedies have minds of their own; they don't care who they hurt or how long it'll take you to recover when they're through. They storm in, flood in and knock you on your ass until you can't remember a time when you didn't feel like the world was about to end.

Years later, in its wake, there was no doubt in his mind that if their baby had survived, he'd be here with them both today. He'd be holding him or her up on his shoulders pointing to the lights. Maybe they'd even be there with Izzy and everyone else in her family.

He couldn't do that, but he could hold her hand. And he could let himself breathe around her for once and actually feel. Because when it came right down to it, there was nothing, no one in the world that he loved more than her. And that's the way it was always going to be. He'd been through hell and back and he still felt the same.

A church bell rang loudly in the melody of Joy to the World, announcing midnight and the arrival of Christmas Day. When more people began to crowd around them, his free hand worked its way to her waist and he shifted behind her, holding her more tightly against him so no one could shove into her. He gulped with her against his chest. Her hair was curly under her red winter hat and smelled just the way he remembered. He leaned in just a little to be closer, and his hands worked their way to her curls, tugging gently then letting them pop back up the way he always had before. Talk about a Christmas miracle.

When the bell had finished ringing, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her even closer. A finger worked to adjust a piece of hair behind her ear so he could lean in to talk to her. "Merry Christmas," he said softly. He barely recognized the sound of his own voice. He sounded happy and scared at the same time, as if he were fighting a losing battle.

He knew what he wanted. He wanted to love her freely, without any messy stuff between them. He wanted to free his demons, to send them back where they belonged. He wanted to clear his head and make something of himself so he could feel right about being with her. He wanted to deserve her again, and he didn't mean it in the self-loathing way most would think of.

He'd preached and preached about wanting to be someone new, but it was clear to him that he didn't want to lose his memories of the time he'd had with Elena. Those were precious. They were everything. They'd kept him alive in times when he might've otherwise said _fuck it_ and done something stupid or irrational. And he didn't just mean in Iraq.

Yes. He'd doubted her true intentions recently. But he'd had to. He had to get out every single possible excuse to not stay in love with her. He needed to flush out all of the bad to see if he still wanted to be with her. And you know what? He did. He very much did.

She was sick and he was sick but together their relationship was fine when they let it be. They both had a lot of work to do in their own lives; of course loving her again wouldn't fix him completely. But it would fill a hole that had gotten bigger and bigger during the years he'd been without her.

He'd asked her once, when he'd first gotten back to New York, if she could look at him with fresh eyes, as if she never knew him or loved him before, and still want him. If she could see his prosthetic foot and his broken soul and want to know him. She'd said yes and he hadn't believed her. But now he understood it; he didn't want to start completely over. He didn't want to forget her. He just wanted a chance to move forward without dwelling on all the pain. He could still be that Damon. He could still love her as much as he had before they'd been ripped apart.

He wondered if she could feel all of his thoughts in the way he was holding her so protectively. He prayed he would feel this strong and this sure once they walked away and got back into her car.

They'd stopped at a small cafe for some pie and coffee before they made their way to the tree. She had insisted on waiting until it was later to go, as it was always better later at night. It was funny. He'd seen the tree so many times growing up, but he'd never thought of it the way Elena did until he'd seen the way she looked under its glow.

The wind picked up and Elena shivered once more, signaling it was time to head back. They hadn't talked about what they'd do after they saw the tree, or if they'd do anything but go their separate ways. They got into her car and waited for it to warm up a bit.

"This was so nice," she said happily. "Thank you for coming to my Mom's tonight to find me. I wanted to ask you, but I was afraid. Tonight was so good,"

Her honesty was beautiful. He wanted to let her in on the secret and tell her she didn't have to be afraid anymore, but he barely believed it himself. It was all still so fresh, this desire.

"Will you come back to my apartment for awhile?"

"It's late, Damon. And believe it or not, I'm tired. My night-owl years have come and gone," she smiled. "I should get home before I'm too tired to drive even just a few miles."

"Yeah, okay," he said, but he couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice. Understanding registered in her eyes and she smiled. "But we could get together later in the day, after we've both slept off this wind and everything."

"Maybe." But by then he'd probably lose his nerve to tell her. Warm air began to blow from the vents and she shifted the car into drive and headed toward his apartment with a soundtrack of everything Christmas. He wasn't ready for it to end.

"What the hell," she mumbled. The streets were lined with bumper-to-bumper cars, not a spot in sight anywhere close to his front steps. Must be family gatherings or people attending midnight mass.

"You can just drop me off," he suggested, but he frowned as he saw a yawn big enough to fill her eyes with sleepy tears. She just kept driving, so he closed his mouth. Stubborn woman. He smiled.

She lapped the block surrounding his a few times until she found a spot a few blocks away and slid in until she brushed the curb. "Frickin' finally," she sighed, turning off the ignition. "This will have to do,"

"After all that, you're going to start the car back up and leave? You could've just dropped me off and saved time and stress."

"I wasn't going to drop you off on Christmas like a kid being dropped off by his Mom for soccer practice. Come on, Damon. I at least want to walk with you a little while so we can talk about later."

Or she really wanted to come inside but didn't want to admit it, he thought.

She glanced down at his foot and frowned. "I'm sorry we're so far. I know you've had to walk a lot lately and it's probably be uncomfortable for you. I'm sorry."

"I'm okay," he smiled knowingly. "Your physical therapist side is coming through. Thought you'd be telling me this is good for me. In fact, maybe _that's_ why you insisted on parking," he winked. She motioned to open her door and he stopped her. "You don't think I'm actually going to let you walk two blocks back to your car alone in the middle of the night, do you? All that nonsense about having to park and I'm just going by myself anyway."

"You're funny," she smiled and popped her door open. "I've still got it, you know. Anyone tries to attack me and I could take them down. Easily. I'm not afraid. I've been on my own for years. You come back and act like I'm fragile," she teased. "Have you forgotten who you're talking to?"

"No. I remember exactly who I'm talking to," his eyes softened. Oh, God. What was he doing? She blinked at him and realized he was serious. "It's not safe. It's Christmas and there are lunatics and drunks on the streets. If something happened to you I don't know what I'd do."

"Well the same goes for you," she nodded toward him. "Just because you're a man doesn't mean someone won't jump you. Not to say you couldn't take them," she smiled lightly. "I'm just saying we're both kind of in a predicament here." She held up her phone. "They make these for a reason, you know. You can talk to me the entire way back to my car if you'd like, but I'm coming with you right now. I have a say in this too, you know."

His need to protect her was eased only by the fact that he'd get to spend a little more time with her. Maybe he'd convince her to stay once they got to his place. It was cold and she'd need to warm up. Coffee did that pretty well, and it was one of her weaknesses.

"Fine," he said as if accepting a challenge. "But when your nose is about to fall off from the cold and..."

"Get walking, would you?" Her eyes widened playfully and she walked backwards in front of him. The ground was slushy with patches of ice below their feet and he watched her slip and slide. Her cheeks were red as she smiled and laughed and something inside him lightened. They'd had so little time to just live without worrying. Isn't that what they had now? This felt right. Being with her made him want to find his way out of the darkness, even if it took a little help. Or medicine. Hers seemed to be helping clear her head.

"This is actually kind of fun," she let her feet continue to slide. They'd be frozen later, he thought. But she was an unstoppable, beautiful force. Her mere presence made him ten times happier.

"Alright, that's probably enough now. Come on back here before you really fall," he held his hand out toward her. She was about ten feet ahead of him and when she saw his hand, she kicked off and started back toward him with a big clump of snow and a wicked look in her eyes.

"Really?" He laughed. "You're going to start a snow fight right now?" He crouched down to pick up clump of his own, ready to defend himself. As predicted, she stopped right in front of him and smushed her ball of snow on the top of his head. He stared at her deadpan for just a minute and almost convinced her he was angry until her defenses were down enough to throw his own ball of snow on the top of her head.

She giggled, shook her head and backed up again to get more snow.

"That's how you want to play, huh? I thought you were tired," he wiggled his eyebrow. God, she was fun! He hadn't let himself just have fun in so long. This was what he needed. After that, an full out snow war began until they were both completely soaked through their coats and their faces were sore from smiling.

"Okay. You win," she breathed, doubled over and panting. She raised herself up and lifted her hands in the air as he reached her. "Now we're completely soaked, cold _and_ tired." But she laughed and in Elena-world, that meant it was worth it. He sighed, smiled and shook his head as he pulled off her wet gloves and folded the fingers of her right hand with those of his left tucking them both into his coat pocket.

"Next you'll want to go sledding."

"Oh come on. It's Christmas. Let me have a little fun," she leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked. Her head moved as she yawned and they walked in silence one more block until they reached his stairs. Thank God they were close. Every time the wind blew she shivered. There was no way he'd let her go home like this, even if wasn't so desperate for her to stay. She'd catch pneumonia.

"Okay so here I am, pressing your name on my phone so we can talk on my way back to the car," she waved her hand in the air but he said nothing. She needed her freedom and choices. She always had. And he'd always tried to protect her more than she liked.

His phone rang in his pocket once. And again. And again. They were lucky their phones still worked considering how wet they'd gotten.

"Are you going to answer or what?" She asked, frowning. He dug it from his pocket and pressed the answer key. Closing the space between them, he stared right into her eyes.

"If you think I'm going to let you walk back to your car, soaking wet, you're out of your mind."

He swallowed nervously. _Out of your mind_ probably wasn't the best choice of words for someone on medications such as she was, but she didn't look offended.

"Now hang up the phone, and take my hand. Or do I have to carry you inside? I may have lost some weight but you look light as a feather." He watched her press the end key and do as he asked. He wouldn't have minded the alternative this time, which was crazy. And he was getting way ahead of himself. When she slipped her hand in his and ascended the cement steps to his building he sighed in relief.

"Okay, you were right," she shivered as she peeled her sleeves out of her wet coat. Slush had slid up her sleeve and soaked into the edges of her sweater. The wet denim of her jeans irritated her skin and she rolled her arms together across her chest. "I can't walk back like this."

"Come on," he said. As if it were the most normal thing in the world now, he took her hand and led her into his bedroom. They stopped in front of his dresser, where he pulled out a black long-sleeved cotton shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants.

"Go take a hot shower and change into these," he suggested as he handed her the clothes and a fluffy black towel. "We'll throw your clothes in the wash machine and dry them, but just so you know, it's going to take awhile."

She nodded. "Thank you. I guess I got a little carried away out there," she touched his forearm and he smiled. "I'll be out of here as soon as I can. I know we're both tired."

He grabbed some clothes for himself and a towel to dry off his head, then turned to give her some privacy and put on a pot of coffee. He heard the shower turn on and his mind roared. God, he couldn't think about it. Just the fact that he _was_ thinking about it was amazing. She'd always been so fun in the shower. Playful. He wondered if she was still that way now...then cringed at the thought of her sharing those precious moments with Matt. Those were his moments, his memories. And that was his Elena. She always would be.

It wasn't until she said his name that he realized what he was doing. He'd worked himself into a real mess thinking about her, and the sweatpants he was wearing did little to hide it. How he'd managed to walk from the kitchen into his bedroom without realizing it was beyond him. Now he was shirtless, sitting on his bed with a steaming mug of hot coffee and staring at her like the only living man to see Heaven.

"Jesus, Damon," she said with wide eyes. He saw the familiar blaze in her eyes and knew she still felt something, too. She hadn't gotten completely dressed yet, and was standing in his sweats and her bra. "You scared me." She scrambled to throw the shirt he'd given her over her head, but it was no use.

He'd seen it.

He got off the bed and forward, falling to his knees before her. His eyes focused then blurred, focused then blurred. Was he seeing that right? He had to touch it, to feel her soft skin and know she was real. Her breath hitched in her chest as the pad of his thumb brushed lightly over the dark ink at the bottom of her ribcage. He closed his eyes then opened them again but it was still there, as it would always be. _SALVATORE_.

And he'd been shocked when he found out she was still wearing his dog tags. This was fifty times as enlightening. Even if she'd gotten it when she still believed he'd come home to her, you had to be seriously in love with someone to do something like this.

He looked at it for just another second before he stood up to meet her at eye-level. His heart was a jackhammer, pounding so hard he couldn't think straight. She'd marked herself with him. Eternally. And he had to admit, his name scripted in her skin was incredibly sexy.

"It's beautiful," he said barely above a whisper. "I'm...you're just so beautiful..." his words melted away as he stared into her big eyes. Then he saw it...behind all the sadness and the pain, he just saw her. Time became nothing and he placed his hands on the sides of her neck to brush her skin with his thumbs. His forehead pressed into hers and he just breathed, unsure of what to do or say next.

"What are you doing?" She managed with a swallow. Her skin was hot and damp from the shower, but the beads rolling down her forehead had nothing to do with her wet hair. She was sweating.

"Tell me why you got that tattoo."

"I don't want to scare you away," her hot breath mixed with his as she whispered. Her hands moved up to his chest where he knew she could feel the thumping of his heart. It beat wildly only for her. Not a moment in combat had ever gotten his blood pumping like being this close to Elena.

"Why did you get it?" He looked at her pleadingly and she let her eyes drift away for a second. "The truth, Elena. Nothing you can say is going to make me upset. Just tell me why. I need to hear it. Please. Don't make me beg anymore."

"Because I needed you with me," she admitted. "You may say I'm sick or that I was crazy..."

He shook his head against hers and scooted in a little closer, just inches from her lips. "No," he breathed. His thumbs glided along her jawline and stopped at her bottom lip. She trembled under his touch. She'd all but given him the green light.

"You may think I don't know what I want. But I _know_ what I want. I've seen the other side and it's ugly and lonely and cold," she paused. "But I thought we weren't doing this..." she whispered as he finally slid his thumb along her bottom lips. It was soft, just like he remembered, and he wondered how the hell he'd been this close to her for months and stayed away. "I thought you said we couldn't..."

"Is that what you want?" His voice was low, recognizable. "You want me to let you go? You want me to stop?" Her teeth tugged at her lower lip and he swore he heard her whimper. He waited a beat, until she shook her head against him.

She was probably right. They shouldn't kiss. It was one, magical day and when it was over, he'd probably snap out of it and freak out. He'd probably crash or regress and decide they couldn't even be friends because he'd gone and fucked with her head again and she deserved better than that.

But it just didn't feel that way right now. An explosion of bliss rode through his veins as her warm breath hit his lips. His hands tangled in her hair as he whispered, "I miss you so damn much it hurts." Her eyes were wide and full of warmth. She nodded against him and pressed nails into the tops of his shoulders as raised herself up on her tiptoes. He took one more breath before his lips moved onto hers. It was just a kiss. That was all they could handle right now. But their lips moved against each other in a rhythm so achingly familiar that everything else just faded away.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading. Things are really rolling now and I'm excited to continue to delve into their past and open us all up to the bigger picture. **


	13. Lego House

**A/N: Hello! Thank you so much for reading, and a quadruple thank you to those who reviewed. The feedback is inspiring, and I appreciate the time you took to do so. I was happy to see so many of you enjoyed the last chapter, and am therefore excited to post this chapter, which I hope you'll like too. **

**The past is sandwiched between two present scenes in this chapter. I took a little different approach here, in that I have one Elena present day POV and one Damon present day POV. I've linked them all up with the scene in the middle, and hope to give insight into both of their heads. **

**I chose Ed Sheeran's "Lego House," for this one. It popped up in my iTunes while I was writing the chapter and I immediately knew it was the title. I know many Ed Sheeran fans out there :D**

**I put a fairly long A/N at the end, which explains the structure of this story going forward. :) As always, thanks for reading.**

* * *

**Through the Ghost**

**Chapter 12: Lego House**

_**Present Day- 1:30 a.m. Christmas Day – Elena POV**_

In the dim light of his bedroom, Elena felt weightless. Her lips moved with urgency, then slowed as she returned the kiss. She devoured him, savored him. She kissed him like a first love...like a woman naïve to pain. She kissed the soldier she'd lost, the man she'd wanted to marry. She kissed the father of her miscarried child, the cocky sergeant that stole her heart four years prior. She kissed him for everything he'd been, for everything he was and for all the thing he would become.

She couldn't remember who'd started walking first, but their lips were still together when the backs of her knees bumped his bed. Startled, she broke away so she could catch her breath, and her wobbly knees finally gave in. His soft eyes watched as she sat down, weak and breathless. He'd knocked her senses sideways in the all the best ways.

She was sweating and shivering and altogether confused, but before she had enough time to analyze it, the mattress sank in a little on each side of her. The weight on his fists was the only thing keeping their bodies from being pressed completely together. He was back for more.

"Damon..." she whispered. It was supposed to be a warning ...a _maybe we shouldn't_, but it had come out desperate and needy and did just the opposite. The common sense whispering in her ear, telling her to slow down, wasn't nearly as loud as the screaming of her heart. All thoughts were out the door as she focused on his soft lips moving back toward hers. She just didn't have the energy to tell herself no. She wanted it.

He nipped lightly at her lower lip and her hands fisted his hair more tightly, dragging his lips along her jaw until he reached her ear. With both of her hands gripped tightly on the back of his neck, she held him there. His hot breath lingered there a minute, as if he wanted so badly to say something but couldn't.

He pressed a gentle, calming kiss to her temple, then the pressure on the bed was gone. Her head was spinning and she was afraid if she opened her eyes he'd be gone. Afraid the magic would be over or she'd wake up and realize it hadn't happened at all, or that it was just another product of her subconscious. She just didn't have the strength to face that kind of reality. When she gathered the courage to look up, he was standing in front of her with tortured eyes.

She needed air. Lots of it. The smell of his body wash on her still damp skin wasn't helping. Their eyes were locked as she reached up to touch her kiss-swollen lips. During the immeasurable amount of time that passed, she began to think.

It wasn't just a little peck or a _we-used-to-kiss-all-the-time-but-we-haven't-for-years-and-now-it's-awkward _kiss. His kisses told a story. Their story. At first he was slow and deliberate, but as the minutes passed, the kiss progressed, much as their relationship had. As he held her, she tasted his comfort then fear...sadness, then hunger. It had been all-consuming; so good that her knees were still shaking. But best of all, it had been as toe-curling as she'd dreamed their reunion kiss would be.

While she knew how she felt, the kiss spoke volumes about his feelings. There were things he couldn't say and she understood that more than he probably knew. The last time he'd held her against him that way she'd almost told him she loved him. They'd been in an argument just before. It was days before he'd gone to war. It was so startlingly clear even now.

She remembered the way her lips had been on his ear and how her head was screaming at her just to say it. Just once. But before she could, he'd pulled her shirt over her head and carried her to her bed. There'd been no time for words after that, just desperate movements on his sheets, the kind that broke her heart and made her cry because she knew there was a chance it would never happen again.

If she could do it all over again, things would be very different. There would be fewer questions and more answers. Everything she'd thought she needed to be afraid of wasn't nearly as frightening as four years without him. She wondered briefly if he felt all that and more in the way she'd kissed him back today.

The last kiss they'd shared before he'd left had tasted like goodbye; it tasted salty and angry. But today his lips felt like hope. She could've kissed him for hours, days, weeks and it still wouldn't feel like enough. Not the way she missed him. It just wasn't possible to cram four years of love and longing into one kiss. There would have to be more.

He walked back over to her slowly and felt her cheeks heat. Her body still responded to his as if it was the very first time their skin had ever touched. She welcomed the warmth and smiled. It was obvious that he was as conflicted as she was. She watched carefully as his eyes shifted from nerves, to adoration, to hunger and back to confusion. But he was still there in front of her her, and that was all the reassurance she needed. They'd figure the rest out later.

His smirk was heavenly and she had to remind herself there would be no sex with Damon today, tomorrow or probably for a long, long time. A long time. They couldn't afford to just slide into it; if she ever slept with him again, it would mean even more than their real first time had. She would tell him she loved him this time, and he would never, ever doubt her again.

She swallowed as reached behind her on the mattress to grab the t-shirt he'd given her to wear. She closed her eyes as he pulled his big t-shirt down over her head and leaned in to press his lips gently to her forehead. It made her feel precious and she could've cried. But she didn't. Instead, she smiled.

He always knew the right thing to do to make her feel better. She didn't just love him because it was what was _supposed_ to happen; he made her want to relax. He made her want to be loved. When she was with him, she just felt real.

All sweetness aside, however; he was still Damon Salvatore. His hands and his mouth were as wonderful as she remembered and brand new at the same time. Her eyes were heavy as she pictured the kinds of things that made wonderful dreams. Her mind, on the other hand, was a live wire and those dreams seemed days away. It would be hard to tune the sound of her pounding heart long enough to fall asleep.

Overcome with heat and confusion, she reached over to his nightstand to grab the mug of lukewarm coffee. She brought it to her lips and frowned. It worked to break the tension, which was exactly what they needed.

"On second thought, let's scrap the coffee," he said as he pulled it gently from her hands. "I'll make you some in the morning." His tone was surprisingly light.

Her eyes flashed to his alarm clock, where the bold red numbers told her it already _was_ the morning. She'd be feeling this later. All of this. And she'd be drinking coffee alright, but it would be at her own little kitchen table with bags under her eyes from being up all night. She was already replaying the way his hands had found their favorite spot on her sides and he'd pushed his thumbs gently on the skin under her ribs while he'd kissed her. Concentration wasn't coming so easily; she'd almost forgotten what they were even talking about until he said her name.

Could she let him see how he'd unravelled her?

"Hm? I'm not that tired anymore. In fact, I think I just got my second wind," she managed before stifling a yawn. "Mind if I just drive home in these clothes? I'll wash them and bring them back when we meet up later." It was probably time to go; things were about to get hot or serious or some wonderful, dangerous combination of the two, and it was far, far too difficult to be sensible tonight.

"Yeah, I do mind," he replied simply.

"Okay. That's fine. My clothes will be dry soon. I'll wait," she said quickly, shocked by his response.

If he wasn't going to let her leave, they needed to talk. Or kiss again. Or both. Her adrenaline rush was ending and she was starting to think too much. The kiss had been wonderful. It solidified what she already knew; she would never, ever fall out of love with him.

That was great...unless of course he regretted it in the morning. He was being sweet now, and he didn't look upset, but she knew what happened when he was alone. Things were always scarier when they were alone. Foggier. Her eyes darted toward the door when she felt her chest begin to tighten.

_One_. _Two._ She took big, deep breaths, as she tried to talk herself down. Panic had no business interrupting their happiness. It just couldn't.

"Elena," she thought she heard him say through the buzzing in her ears.

_Three. Four. Five._ Her eyes were closed, her fists balled and tucked under her legs. _Please, please don't ruin this, Elena._

"Elena," he repeated. "You're about to fall asleep sitting up," he nudged his head back toward the pillows. He'd misread her attack for exhaustion.

"Go on. Crawl under the covers." He stood up to throw on his t-shirt and turn the blankets down. When she didn't move, he walked back in front of her and waited.

Her insides were twisting and she didn't think she'd be able to breathe until she had the answers she needed. If she asked him what he thought, she stood the chance to ruin everything about that night. If he wanted to talk about it, he'd be talking. Clearly he just wanted her to go to sleep. Maybe so when they woke up he could act like it hadn't happened.

Being with Damon just wound her up. She shook her head and bit her lip, "I shouldn't," It came out so weak that she barely believed it herself, so she tried again. "We can't just...I can't sleep in your bed," she managed a sheepish smile. "It's just not a good idea tonight."

There was no way in hell she could trust herself to sleep by him. He was warm; an intoxicating mix of smooth skin and hard, lean muscle. She watched his hand smooth over the soft cotton of the sweatpants, gliding from her ankle, up her shin. When he stopped at her knee, her eyes found his and a shiver ran through her. It sure didn't _feel_ like he regretted anything. How in the hell was he so calm right now? Shouldn't he be freaking out or angry? Shouldn't he be _anything_ but calm? It almost worried her, like some calm before the storm.

"It's just sleep," he smiled crookedly and squeezed her leg reassuringly. "And you need it. I'll be out on the couch if you need anything." He pointed his thumb back toward the door. And though it made things a lot easier and a whole lot less complicated, she felt a small pang of disappointment just the same.

Reluctantly she nodded and crawled up toward the head of the bed. When she pulled the soft blankets over her she caught a familiar scent. He used the same fabric softener she had when she'd lived near base...another reminder of how intertwined their lives really were.

He'd just reached the door when she whispered his name.

"Can you please bring me my pills? They're in my purse." She asked nervously. The last thing she wanted to do tonight, a night where they'd been so happy, was to remind him of her problems. But she wanted him to know she trusted him. Most of all, she needed that honesty.

"Of course." His answer was simple and gentle, but she saw the worry bubble up within in. Minutes later he was back with two orange bottles and a full glass of water. He watched her with kind eyes as she swallowed what she needed, and she knew it would be just a matter of minutes before it started to kick in.

"Thank you," she said softly as she recapped them and set them on his nightstand. Silence lingered for a little while. And while she didn't know what to say, she wasn't ready to go to sleep yet. She touched his hand lightly, so happy to love a man who knew the real her. And that was it, wasn't it? The reason she couldn't fall in love with anyone else. The reason she didn't _want_ to fall in love with anyone but Damon. When they were together, she remembered what it was like to have dreams. Everyone else had made her feel like she was walking around in a constant nightmare.

She watched the lines of his face soften and relax. Somehow his fingers had worked their way to the side of her head and he tucking and re-tucking her wet, wavy hair behind her ear over and over again. When his thumb settled lightly on her earlobe, she wanted to pulled him onto the bed with her, but instead let the heat boil between them with a stare. It went on for an eternity at first, but something in his eyes changed and he abruptly pulled his hand away.

"Well, goodnight," he said, suddenly sounding exhausted as he headed toward the door, running his hand through his hair.

"Night," she whispered back. He hit the light switch and she was in the dark.

She slapped her forehead and stared at at the ceiling. It was too dark to see her own hand in front of her face...the kind of dark that makes you lonely. She tossed and turned and flipped, but it was just no use. She wasn't falling asleep in his bed. It smelled too familiar and she pictured him lying there alone at night thinking the same thing. Did he think about the way things used to be between them? She did. Often. And in her scary moments, she wondered how he'd even fallen in love with her in the first place...back in a time when she'd made herself into someone so easy to hate.

* * *

_**Late December 2008 **_

"I wish you'd talk to me," Damon whispered to Elena. Her eyes were closed and her face smooth, sure indicators that she'd finally given up the fight and fallen asleep. He propped himself up with one hand while the other played with waves of hair that fell over her bare shoulder.

"I need to be a part of this. I'm afraid, too. But that doesn't mean it's going to go away if we pretend it's not real. This baby is real no matter how hard you try to convince yourself it's not. We can do this. I love you, Elena, and it's going to be enough."

Her eyes flashed open and she fixed her stare on her bedroom ceiling, unsure of what to say.

"You're awake," he breathed and moved his arm so his head could crash down onto her pillow. "So I guess you heard me, then." Her eyes stayed focused on the ceiling, away from him, and she nodded slowly. He rolled to his back and tried to find the spot above them that she'd chosen to stare at instead of him.

"Please don't push me, Damon. I asked you to give me time to think this through. You bringing it up every day is only making it harder," her jaw tightened, then she heard him sigh in frustration, as she had at least a dozen times that week.

He turned back toward her and gently took her chin in his hand to turn it in his direction. He held it there, taking in the fear and confusion in her pretty eyes. Her head was churning big, horrifying things and he wondered just what she saw when she thought of the future. Did it include him?

"I'm trying very hard to give you time and space and whatever else you need," he said seriously. "To the point that the only time I can _really _say what I'm feeling is when I think you're asleep. I'm know it's your body and that I don't have to go through half of what you are right now, but my head's still spinning, Elena. And I'm worried about you. Both of you.

"The fact that it's a secret isn't helping. I'm forced to stand by and watch you doing things that I know you shouldn't be doing, like pushing yourself so hard at the gym. I'd put money down that you haven't called Caroline to cancel the New Year's plans or at least let her know you'd be sober ringing in 2009."

She closed her eyes and he saw her chest begin to rise and fall a little quicker. It was happening more often, the worry flaring in her eyes, the shallow breaths.

"I'm not trying to upset you." his tone softened, fearing she was about to break down or shut down or do anything but what they really needed to do. Talk. "But we've known for almost a week and if I so much as hint at the fact that we need to talk, you completely freeze up."

"I don't want to disappoint you," she whispered. "And I know I will because I haven't changed my mind. I can't do this,"

"Why?"

"I can't talk about it, because when I do, you're going to get angry. This is coming between us. We made a mistake, Damon. One that can be fixed, very easily," he felt himself cringe, but forced himself to listen. This was more progress than he'd made before and he really did want her to tell him how she felt.

"And then what?" He frowned. "We carry on and don't ever make a mistake again?" He knew he sounded condescending and hated that he'd taken that route with the woman he loved, but her walls were thick and this wasn't something he couldn't give into without her actually hearing him out.

"Why do you do that?" She asked sadly. "That's unrealistic and you know it. I'm not saying it's not okay to make mistakes. I'm not naïve. I know you don't agree with me. You know I feel badly about this. It's just the way I feel. I'm not doing this to hurt you. I care about you. This is better for us."

"How do you know?" This time his words were curious as he tried to be patient and wrap his head around her point of view. His past might be clouding his judgement a bit; he saw things in a completely different way than she did, and he had to remember while they were similar in a lot of ways, this wasn't one of them.

"Because we're not being forced into something we don't want to do. From here on out, my choices are not my own. My life is not my own. I can't bring a child into this world if I don't know how to love it," her voice cracked, but she maintained control. "You don't get it because it's not the same for you."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm the mother. I can't decide one day that I'm not happy and that's it. I _can't_ leave," she said roughly. The impact of her words didn't register until she saw his eyes flicker with pain and felt his hand pull away from her. It was the wrong choice of words, considering. She took a slow breath and tried to apologize. "I'm sorry. That wasn't a dig at your family...I didn't think. I _can't_ think anymore, Damon. I'm just so tired. I'm just so done."

He fell silent again, afraid of what he might say. Her words hadn't been malicious, just honest. That's the way she felt, and her feelings were just as important as his. The realization was just another check on the list of things you think about differently once you fall in love. She had a point, though he still didn't agree.

He knew Elena and she was too strong-willed and stubborn to give up on something so easily. A human life was different than joining the Army, but a commitment just the same. And she didn't take such things lightly. She loved on a different level, though she never said those things out loud. He could feel it, the fear blazing off her. That she would fail again. That should would be a bad mother. Those were the things she'd just touched on before but had said nothing about since.

At a time when very little in life made sense, he knew one thing. Elena Gilbert was not Erin Salvatore; she would love this baby uncontrollably and never walk away as his mother had.

So with a breath and forgiving heart, he began his plea.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe my mother walking away from me and leaving me with a shit father and an unreliable brother makes me see this a little differently. I know you think it's not the same, and in a lot of ways it isn't, but I am this baby's father, and I can't sit here and nod and let you do what you think is best without saying why I don't think it's a good idea. I'm as much this child's parent as you are. I know we've just started to get kind of serious and we're still learning about each other and this is going to affect that. But it's not ridiculous to imagine that it could work, too."

"Maybe at first...while everything's still new."

"I'm not going to leave you, if that's what you're afraid of,"

The worried look in her eyes tripled, then shifted to doubt. "You don't know that."

"Yes. I do," he insisted. "I'm in love with you. You're not alone in this. You'll never be alone. I promise," he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her toward him and kissed her bare shoulder. His hand flattened against her bare stomach and he gave it another shot. She was listening now, and it was now or never.

"I just don't feel right about it. I can't...could you really go through with it?" he stopped.

"I almost did it. I've been afraid to tell you that," her voice croaked. "At the clinic, when they told me I was pregnant. I almost went ahead and took care of it. But all I could see was you. And I got this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Because God it would be easy...to just take care of it and move forward. But we couldn't move forward could we? Because you'd hate me for it...and maybe, one day, I'd hate myself for it, too. I hate this uncertainty. I can't stand not knowing what comes next." she said seriously. "I can't do this without you. Any of it. I need you. I need you more that I've ever needed anyone."

His heart pounded harder. He didn't need an _I love you_. That admission was just fine. He only wished it would've come out in a happier way.

"And you have me. I won't lie to you to make this easier, because we're better than that. I don't want you to get an abortion. But I also don't want you to be unhappy for the rest of your life. If you're really going to be miserable...shit, I can't look at you everyday knowing I forced you into this. That's bad for us. I don't want you to think it's either the baby or nothing. I love _you_, and while I really don't agree with this, I'm not going to stop loving you because of it. It's you and me," he squeezed her tightly.

He was thankful for the moments of silence that passed between them. She did some of her best, real thinking when she was quiet.

"If we do this, it will tie us together forever," she swallowed. "And you're young," he heard her say. "Forever's a long time when you're only 23. Especially with a woman like me. If we break up, we'll still have to see each other for the sake of the child. It could get messy and I don't do messy."

"That's really the least of my worries," he said. "I have no plans to break up with you."

He held back a smile as he felt her squirm nervously. She turned around to face him and her bare skin pressed against his. He measured her stare carefully, noticing the dried streaks of tears staining her cheeks. "It's okay to be afraid," he assured her with a smile as she nuzzled into his neck, and clung to him with a need that felt brand new.

"I'm not ready to tell anyone," she said softly against his warm skin. "Not family, not friends, and especially not anyone here." She looked up into his eyes.

"Will you put in for a discharge from the Army?" He asked seriously.

"Not yet," she swallowed. "This is hard and I'm not ready to do that yet."

"Then promise me you'll at least slow down, baby. I know you're independent and I'm not trying to tell you what to do. I'm asking you, please."

"Nothing will happen," she shook her head. "Nothing's going to happen."

* * *

_**Present Day – Damon POV**_

Damon shifted his shoulders on the couch and closed his eyes. His mind was on fire with memories of Elena and her ferocious kisses. Elena in his clothes. Elena in his bed. Right now.

He'd seen the familiar hunger in her eyes, and it did things to him. It got him thinking about just how long it had been since the last time he'd had sex. He hadn't tried to dull the pain by sleeping with women when he got back from war. His new love had been alcohol, but no matter how much he tried, even it couldn't make him stop wanting Elena. He should've known the random women he'd met in bars wouldn't kiss like Elena did, wouldn't taste or feel the way she did. There'd been dozens of women in his bed before he'd met her, but none since.

It would only ever be Elena...and he'd tossed her away in Chicago.

Four years of without sex seemed like a lifetime when the only woman he wanted was just a few hundred feet away between his sheets.

He squeezed his forehead tightly and forced himself to think straight. It had taken all of his self-control to walk away from her tonight...to stop himself from telling her exactly how he felt and exactly what he wanted because it wasn't fair.

He had to stop before he freaked out. Before he regressed. Before he undressed her and told her he loved her and everything changed between them yet again. He couldn't be 100% sure that he'd wake up in the morning and still feel as positive and right about them as he did now. His head had a way of playing tricks on him. He'd spent too much time walking under a dark cloud of depression to just assume everything was just going to be okay because they kissed.

He was no fool; she'd asked for her pills and it was probably his fault. They'd gotten all worked up and she'd probably gone to sleep thinking he'd stopped because he regretted it. He didn't regret it. Not at all. He'd done the right thing by stopping things before they started pulling the rest of each other's clothes off, but he'd kiss her again in a heartbeat. He needed to kiss her again.

They'd have to talk about it eventually, but he kind of wished that they'd do it again and again until their passion just worked everything out on its own. In a perfect world they wouldn't always need words to understand each other.

Nights like this made him think about the past. They'd been here before, the future staring them in the face. He wouldn't lie to her, but he'd been lying to himself since the moment he realized he loved her. He started to believe he'd never be deployed. Their future was filled with endless, wonderful possibilities that he'd fully intended on making good on. They'd had just enough time to start believing before the world had been yanked out from beneath them. But there was nothing stopping them now. They were free to live and do whatever they wanted; They just needed to believe it. They had all the time in the world, so they needed to take their time...they needed to go slow...

His eyes were closed when he heard the floor squeak from across the room. It was going to be hard to go slow with her walking around his house in his T-shirt. He kept his eyes closed as he heard her soft footsteps as she made her way into the kitchen. He heard a zipper first, then keys, then the familiar unlocking sound of her cell phone and his hope deflated.

"Leaving without saying goodbye?" He asked.

She spun around to face him and froze. Her hair was thrown up in a messy bun on top of her head her eyes were dark as if she hadn't slept a wink either. He let a relieved breath when he noticed she was still barefoot and in way prepared to walk out his front door.

"No. I can't sleep. I was looking for my phone." It was the truth, but it sure seemed like an excuse now. "Sorry to wake you."

"Don't be," he smiled. "I wasn't asleep either," he sat upright and moved his pillow away from the arm of the couch as he scooted over to the neighboring cushion. He wondered if she was as confused as he was, or if the uneasiness in her eyes was an introduction to an apology.

Desperate to keep things simple, he suggested the one thing he knew she wouldn't turn down. He took a quick glance at the clock on the wall, which now read 3:30 a.m., and asked,

"How about that coffee?"

"Sure," she said with a smile, though she looked uneasy, still. Like she'd been up worrying or gnawing on her lower lip like she did when she drove herself crazy about something.

Her eyes focused on his hands as he fastened on his prosthetic foot and made his way to the kitchen. He watched as she leaned against the arm of the couch where he'd just been. He knew it was still warm from his body heat as she tugged the blanket he'd been using up around herself and snuggled in.

Her eyes had started to close when he got back to the couch and he smiled, hoping it meant he'd somehow made her more comfortable. "You still want this?"

She looked up at him with sleepy eyes and nodded and he felt another part of himself melt.

"Be careful. This new machine I got makes the coffee extra, extra hot," he warned as he pressed it into her waiting hands. He eyed the blanket around her, then sat down close to her, as if it were the most normal behavior in the world. She sipped slowly, nursing it until it was about half gone before setting it on the small wooden table to her left.

Her hands wouldn't stay empty for long. His free hand slid under the blanket and squeezed her right hand. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I don't know," she said as she pressed her cheek to the tops of her knees and faced him. She smiled and he felt himself relax.

"I'm sorry if I scared or upset you before," he said seriously. "I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"You didn't," she answered quickly. "You're asking because I asked for my pills."

He gave her a careful smile, telling her it was okay.

"You're not the reason," she bit her lip. "I'm the reason. I scared myself in there. I think too much and start to worry. Some things don't change," she said apologetically. "But it's all me. You did nothing wrong," she swallowed, then said, "I wanted it."

And there it was. Plain as day. Simple. Easy. Completely sexy. And therein lies the challenge to take it slow. There was something exciting about taking his time with her. Maybe because he hadn't before. He knew her and he loved her then, but there a thousand reasons to love her now, and he intended to explore every one of them.

He drained his mug dry so he could set it on the end table. He reached across her to do so and his wrist brushed against the goosebumps on her arm that was outside of the blanket.

"Still cold?" he asked with a hammering heart. He ran his knuckles softly against her cheek and watched her eyes turn ravenous.

"No." Her voice was a raspy, sexy invitation and he didn't let himself over think it. They were like magnets, each of them flipped the wrong way at some point or another, pushing the other one away. Not now. Not anymore.

He couldn't think straight and he really couldn't stop himself from kissing her again. In fluid, familiar motions, he'd buried his hands under the blanket to grab her sides. He pulled her onto his lap and his mouth got to work on her neck, feeding his own hunger. He nipped along her jaw until she tugged the back of his hair and brought his face up to hers. Her heavy breathing told him she'd used up her restraint a few hours ago, too.

Had she come out here to get her phone because she couldn't sleep? Or had she wanted this as much as he had. Did it even matter?

_Fuck his problems. Fuck the ghosts that told him he didn't deserve her. Fuck the war and everything else that had come between them. Fuck all of it because none of it mattered. He was alive._

He focused on her lips and waited. This time she moved first. Her lips crashed onto his and she kissed him hard, like she needed the air from his lungs to breathe. It was his turn to shiver as he felt her nails dig into his scalp and she pulled him closer and closer until he could feel the warmth of her body through the thin T-shirt she wore. Her knees dug into the soft cushion on either side of him and she raised herself up to scoot closer. Instinctively, his warm hands snuck under the hem of the T-shirt and found their way to her thighs. When she made a familiar, enticing noise, he pulled his lips away from hers to breathe.

_Go slow_, he reminded himself.

His breath was ragged as he searched her eyes for answers and saw a reflection of his own desires. What was the use in going slow if they knew what they wanted? It wasn't a mystery; they knew it'd be good. They'd always been good at this part. A little too good. So good that she'd forever ruined other women for him. She was intoxicating and addictive and she was in a t-shirt and a thin pair of pink panties sitting on top of him. Where was the voice of reason now?

"Don't stop," she said in his ear, and his hands smoothed over the length of her thighs. He didn't want to stop. 95% of his body was telling him _not_ to stop, but the remaining 5% reminded him that just days ago they'd been arguing...that kissing was one thing and sex was another. That he loved her and he wanted her to know he loved her before he slept with her again.

He wanted to be clear-headed when he said to her again. He wanted to be healthy, sober by choice. He wanted to say he had no desire to drink...to feel good about being on the medications he needed to be on to rid himself of the delusions that weighted him down.

And as he stared into the beautiful eyes of the only woman he'd ever loved, he realized his greatest purpose wasn't to just love her. It was to love himself, too.

If possible, that made him love her even more, and without another word, he kissed her again. He kissed her until his breath ran out...wildly at first, then slow and lovingly until her lips matched his in movements tender and calm. He knew then, that the communication between them just came easier physically. No words he might've said to her could've had the same effect.

She didn't seem angry or frustrating at the way he'd shifted things. He guessed her heart had probably jumped in front of her head for a few minutes there, too, and maybe she was thankful one of them had the sense to slow it down.

He kissed her until her body became light and loose in his arms and she nuzzled her face into his neck. When her breathing slowed, he tugged the blanket up over both of them, unwilling to let her go. After she'd settled into a deep sleep, he tried to sit up so he could carry her back to his bedroom so she'd be more comfortable, she'd tightened her grip around his neck and sleepily mumbled, "Stay."

With her warm breath tickling his neck, he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms more tightly around her. He gently untwisted the hair tie from her head and let her hair fall onto both of them, savoring what he believed the most peaceful moment in his life so far. With Elena in his arms, the world was a warm, exciting place full of possibilities.

The rest would come later, when they were ready. They'd talk, they'd fight and they'd make love, because that's what they did. There weren't deadlines to meet. The only thing rushing them would be the hot craving to reunite, and that was a tension he could handle. The payoff of waiting would be glorious.

The storm clouds inside their heads were nowhere in sight now, and the voices screaming _coward_ and _fool_ were muted. He'd be ready to fight them when they tried to come back, because he knew he had to. He finally wanted to.

He faded to the sound of her breathing and slept soundly, certain there was simply no safer place in the world than in her arms.

* * *

**A/N: And we've reached the end of part 1. :) I'm not separating the story into two different titles. I've chosen to make two defined parts for several reasons. In part one, we learned who the characters were and saw their history and how it shaped the people they've become in the present. I've chosen now as the time to end part one because DE are, in a lot of ways, at the same point in their relationship in 2012 that they were in 2008. They face different obstacles now, but face them still, and face big conversations. I really wanted to show growth in part one. Both characters are different than their past selves, yet also still the same. **

**The next chapter will be set a few months down the line (but I'm not taking a few months off of writing. The updates will be the same), and we'll get a chance to see the progression and/or setbacks they've faced since Christmas Day. We have a TON of stuff to still go through with them, especially in the past. For those of you who've asked me if we're going to see certain events, the answer is yes. As they work through their current situation, we'll get a clear picture of the past, which will unravel all the pieces of their life together.**

**Thank you for your patience and reviews! I'm excited to hear thoughts and I make my way toward part two. Thanks again.**


	14. Run

**A/N: Thanks for your patience as you waited for the update. This chapter takes place a few months after the last. We catch up with them in April learn a bit of what's happend in the time in between. There's definitely some big stuff coming up in the second half of this story and I'm anxious to reveal it all slowly. **

**Thank you to all of my reviewers, as well, including those guest reviewers. I really appreciate the time you take to let me know your thoughts and always look forward to seeing your feedback. **

**I selected Snow Patrol's "Run" for this one. Thanks again for reading! **

* * *

**Through the Ghost**

**-Part 2-**

**Chapter 13: Run**

Damon adjusted his earbuds and slowed his pace, coming to a stop in the middle of Central Park. His lips broadened into a wide smile as he squinted up into the sun. The April breeze was soothing, but not enough to cool the sweat collecting on his brow. His chest burned in a wonderful, accomplished way and he welcomed the exhaustion; it made him feel alive.

The beat of Muse's Time is Running Out pounded in his ears as he took a long drink of water from the bottle he'd brought along. Beside him, and elderly couple held hands. And while their lives had all but passed them by, he envied the smiles on their faces and the love in their eyes. They made love look so easy, though he was sure they had a story of their own. Everyone did. He hoped one day he'd be staring at Elena through older, wiser eyes. He'd smile at her with all the love in the world and no one around them would ever guess the hell they'd made it through half a decade before.

If his therapist could hear him now! A few months in and he was a walking example of emotional progress. These were real, honest-to-God feelings, and they were strong as hell even as his medication flowed through his veins. He still found himself crossing his fingers with each little pill he swallowed, hoping it wouldn't completely numb him.

He agreed to start medication because he was looking for peace, not an absolute escape from his reality. There was no unseeing what he had in his time overseas, but once was more than enough. The hallucinations had to go...particularly the ones about Elena. The lines between reality and paranoia were completely blurred when it came to her, and that frustrated him the most out of anything.

All he wanted was to wake up normally one morning instead of shivering in a cold sweat. His time would come, wouldn't it? He couldn't be stuffed under this cloud forever. Sometimes he barely recognized the man in the mirror, but it was getting easier as the days passed, and told himself to keep believing one day he'd wake up and the nightmare would be over.

The pills and the counseling sessions he'd started didn't compare to this. Running. Fresh air pumping through his lungs. The wind whipping through his hair, reddening his cheeks. This. Here. Now. There was simply no better way to clear his head.

He glanced down at his new prosthetic and smiled. If he couldn't have the real thing, he was sure glad he had this. Each pound on the pavement sounded and felt like liberty. To a guy who spent years fighting for freedom, that meant a whole hell of a lot.

He yanked the bottom of his blue t-shirt up to wipe the sweat away from his forehead, thankful for the breeze against his sweat-soaked stomach. The song was ending and as the beat softened in his ears, he saw her standing a few feet away from him. She looked like angel with the breeze tossing her hair around and it took a moment for him to realize he hadn't imagined her.

He lowered the T-shirt slowly as she stared, and watched the color rise to her cheeks. He smirked and pulled his earbuds out, ready to come up with something snarky to say when he felt a little tug on his wrist and looked down.

"You're really sweaty, Uncle Damon," Izzy blinked up at him with innocent curiosity in her big eyes. "Are you okay?"

Immediately his thoughts plummeted to his new prosthetic and what he could do or say to keep her little eyes away from it. His eyes darted to Elena and when he saw nothing but calm, he released a breath and answered.

"Yep, I'm fine," He said brightly. "I was just running."

"On purpose?" Her nose scrunched up in the way only a child's can, and his smile widened. He'd only met her once, but got the impression from the easy way she acted around him, that Elena had made sure he wasn't a stranger to her niece. The Uncle Damon thing still surprised him every time.

"On purpose. It's good exercise," he explained. "People my age need to work out to stay in shape," he stretched his arms above his head to make his point before bouncing to crouch down to her eye level.

"You're not old," she giggled. Then her eyes flared for a second as if she'd just gotten an idea, and she cupped her little hands to her mouth and leaned into his ear. "My Auntie's birthday is soon,"

"I know," he confirmed in a whisper before looking back up at Elena. Her arms were wrapped around her middle as she clutched a little brown stuffed bear and a pink plastic juice cup. Her hair still blew around her in the wind, and it took all his strength to not stand and tuck it behind her ear. To not press his lips to hers, right there in the middle of Central Park, and let the chirping birds and sounds of the bustling streets carry them away. God, he missed her lips.

"Are you as old as my Auntie?" Izzy giggled into his ear. He shook his head and she giggled a little louder, like a little girl with a crush. Elena bit her lip and he gulped, feeling the energy throbbing between them. And while it was the sensible thing to do at the time, the whole no-sleeping-at-each-other's apartment thing was starting to seem like the worst idea he'd ever had. It was second only to his decision to take things slowly with her. He hadn't realized at the time how hard it would be to keep his hands to himself. Now that he'd gotten a taste of her, and them, again, he'd do anything to keep from screwing it up.

Crushing her tightly in his arms on Christmas Eve was the closest thing to heaven he'd felt. For those few hours, she'd felt like his again, but the sun rose too early that morning, and every night since has felt colder and more lonely without her.

"We're having a party for her," Izzy said happily, snapping him back to the present. "Are you coming?"

"I'm not sure," he backed up a little to stand, and his eyes shifted quickly from Elena's lips to her eyes and back. Worry brewed in his heart, as she hadn't told him about a party or even mentioned her birthday. Not that he'd forget. He'd begged to get the information out of her years ago and it would always stick with him. From far away he'd imagined her turning 27, then 28...imagined pulling her in his arms and kissing her senseless the minute the clock hit midnight. He'd sat alone in his apartment drinking when she turned 29, and punched a hole in his wall when she hit 30.

What he wouldn't give to be holding her hand when she turned 31.

"You should come," Izzy said quickly, squeezing his wrist in her little hand. "We're having cake!" He smiled down at her gently, wishing more than anything he knew the right thing to say to diffuse the awkwardness building from such a simple conversation.

"It's just a little get together that Mom's throwing," Elena said quickly, "I asked her not to, but there's not getting through to her when she sets her mind on something. It's next Friday, if you'd like to come. It'll be just family mostly, and Caroline. No presents."

He nodded, understanding why she hadn't mentioned it before now. Things had changed in the few months since Christmas. They barely knew how to act around each other, let alone march into a party together and establish their relationship to her family. He was sure they'd say there was no pressure, but everyone would be watching the way they acted and the way they talked to each other. The focus would be on them instead of her, and honestly, there was no telling whose anxiety would kick in first.

They'd talk about all of that later. While he fully planned on celebrating her birthday, he'd pictured being alone with her. Dinner. Talking. That's what friends did, right? But try as he might, he couldn't shut his heart up long enough to believe being friends was the right thing to do anymore. So they'd probably end up kissing. Probably do a whole _lot_ of kissing actually because, as she continued to remind him, she wasn't the one who'd come up with the friend rule anyway. Maybe, because it was a special occasion and because she was so damn irresistible, he'd break his rule and ask her to stay the night, just so he could hold her again.

Now that sounded like a birthday to make up for all the ones he'd missed.

His therapist told him he should learn to love himself before he let another person consume him. He'd actually laughed when he'd said that. Clearly the man had never loved a woman as much as he loved Elena. If he had, he'd know it was already too late for that. He'd given his heart away years ago.

The guy had somewhat of a point, though. He didn't want to take on too much at once when he was still struggling to stay sober and trying to find the right way to balance his head out. He didn't want to be a disappointment because the last thing Elena needed was another thing to cry about.

But all chemical imbalances aside, why shouldn't he want her? Why couldn't he love her? Why couldn't he have her, if she wanted him, too? These questions and more played over and over in his mind, and the more he thought about it, the more promising it sounded.

Now, however, it was time to change the subject.

"So, what are you lovely ladies doing out on a Saturday morning, anyway?" He bounced up to a standing position and closed the cap on his water bottle. Izzy hadn't mentioned the foot-thing and he was hoping that meant she'd either completely missed it or had already been told. Whatever the case, he appreciated it. Telling a preschooler why he was running on carbon fiber instead of flesh and bone was just too much for 9 a.m.

"Auntie Elena took me for breakfast and now we're going to FAO Schwarz. I'm gonna build a muppet," she squealed in excitement and her eyes lit up. "Cool, huh?"

"Very cool," His eyes were trained on Izzy, avoiding the inevitable spark buzzing off Elena. To say there was tension between them was putting it lightly. So he smiled widely and forced his full attention on the small girl instead of the woman standing behind her.

"Lots," she jumped up and down. "And I get to have another slumber party with her tonight."

"Her parents are out of town for the weekend for April's birthday," Elena explained. His interest piqued when he caught a rasp in her voice. He wanted to let himself believe she'd used the tone to play with him, but he saw her swipe her nose with a tissue and realized she was sick. His heart hammered at the sound of it anyway and he smiled apologetically.

"We're having a girls' weekend, complete with Barbie hair salon, movies and popcorn," she continued. "Izzy likes to wake up nice and early," her eyes widened with emphasis. "_Really_ nice and early," she sneezed.

"Auntie Elena's sick," she pouted out a lip, but soon her eyes lit up again and she was over it and moving onto the the next thing, turning circles in a nearby puddle and scaring pigeons.

Damon frowned and stepped closer to Elena. Her watery eyes were pretty still, and they consumed him until he found himself pressing the pad of his thumb on her cheek to catch an escaping sick tear. She smiled at him and shook her head, assuring him she was fine.

"It's allergies," she bit her lips. "I think. At most the common cold,"

"Even so," he swallowed, frowning still.

"I'm fine. We planned this way in advance and I can't back out of it now because I have a scratchy throat and am a little tired," she smiled again. "What kind of aunt would I be? Just look at her," she nudged her head sideways and he finally smiled, letting the small child's ease wash over him.

Although her eyes had stopped watering and the tears long since dried on her cheeks, his finger remained, smoothing over her skin. It was warm and turning pinker by the moment under his gaze and he everything building between them in the last few months almost just rushed out of his mouth. Of all the things he didn't know, he really knew this. He could never, would never, love another.

"How've you been?" She asked, resting her hand on his wrist as he touched her face. She looked happily down at his foot and released a contended sigh. "You look happy."

"You were right," he said simply, taking a breath and dropping his hand from her face and sliding his fingers between hers by his side. "I needed this. I feel stronger and in control when I run. I feel great," he admitted. Their eyes remained locked until they felt the splash of water against their knees. Damon let out a laugh and stepped backward, creating enough space for Izzy to run in between them.

She grabbed onto Elena's wrists until she lifted her up and smoothed the little girl's wet hair out of her eyes. "Sorry," Izzy pouted and Elena pressed a kiss to her forehead, forgiving her easily. "Can we go now?"

Elena set her down carefully and looked up at Damon again, as if checking to see if his mood had shifted. He was smiling still, but his hands were in his pockets as if distancing himself from a private, family moment. Something about it all made him sad he began to feel heavy.

"We're going to watch Lady and the Tramp tonight. You should come," Izzy tugged his wrist again, snapping him out of his temporary misery. The dark clouds rolled back at the hopeful look on her face. "My Auntie's going to make spaghetti and everything. Just like in the movie."

"That's really nice of you, but I thought it was supposed to be a girls' weekend. No boys allowed and all that," his eyes flicked up to Elena again, as if asking for help or an excuse.

"You're not just a boy, silly," she bounced on her toes and tugged on his wrists. "You're Uncle Damon." The simple, matter-of-fact way she said it had him taking shallow breaths as the blood thrummed in his ears. If only it could be that easy.

"You could come," Elena added with a small, easy smile. "But only since Izzy says it's okay and only if you like extra butter popcorn. And spaghetti sauce from a jar," she sneezed again and it reminded him of how few opportunities he'd had in their time together to take care of her. Suddenly it sounded wonderful, as if they'd stumbled upon each other in the park as a test to see what he'd do.

Izzy resumed her twirling, and he took the opportunity to lower his voice so only Elena could hear. "Is that a good idea? Me coming over tonight?"

"Why not?" Her arms was tracing the length of his arm, making it hard to focus or come put his feelings into sensible words. Her palm came to rest on the top of his shoulder and he felt his body relax under her touch.

Amazing.

"I can think of a about a hundred different reasons," he whispered back, his eyes snagging once again on Izzy. She was full of life and happiness and carried with her a freedom that he realized he'd never known. She spun and spun until she was too dizzy to stand and crashed into Elena's legs with a laugh so innocent it nearly took his breath away. As Elena's hands went into the child's hair to smooth the strands and she placed a kiss onto her forehead, he saw equal happiness their eyes and a few of his heartstrings snapped.

Thankfully the child was oblivious to what it was doing to his insides, and set her sights on a large puddle. They were alone again, and he was caught in dangerous emotional territory, unable to put into words all of the suffocating feelings inside his chest.

"Tell me one...one reason why you shouldn't come over, I mean," she bit her lip, teasingly and squinted in a way that was reminiscent of how she looked down in bed at him with sleepy eyes. He smirked, wanting both to take her bait and keep her guessing at the same time. The few months since Christmas had certainly made things interesting. Every day was new, and they treated it that way. Some days they talked like best friends and others they fought. Some days they sat across the room from each other, and others, thought not often enough, she'd crawl onto his lap and look at him like he was all she'd ever need to be happy.

"One, huh?" He asked, stalling. How the hell did she expect him to do that? Sure, if they'd been alone he could've rattled off an entire list of reasons and most of them were for the simple fact that they wouldn't be alone. Sharing space with a child was not something he was used to dealing with, and when it came to Elena, he found himself breaking more of his own rules each time they met up.

So today, when she was sick and running around the city with a preschooler, his protective instinct kicked in. Whether his head let him believe it all the time or not, she was his. He took care of what was his. He understood that now, and a whole bunch of other things that had seemed wrong and foggy just a year before, and he hoped one day to prove it to her.

"What's the matter?" She smiled playfully up at him. "Can't come up with a good enough excuse to get out of a Disney classic with two Gilbert girls? We make awesome popcorn."

"I can think of all too many," he said simply. "But none of them are important enough to make me say no," as he finished, he saw relief cross her face. It felt good. "With the amount of running around you're doing this morning and that little bug of yours, I'd be surprised if you're upright late enough to operate the stove."

"Hey," she smiled. "You'd be surprised how capable I am."

"I remember your cooking, Elena. It was the best damn cooking I've ever had," he said seriously. She looked down at her feet nervously and he felt something kick harder in his chest. "But I'm not coming over for the free food," the corner of his lip turned upward.

This time when Izzy interrupted, he was relieved. He didn't know the general daily goings on of small kids, but he did know they went to bed sometime before 9 p.m., which meant they'd have plenty of night left by themselves to do whatever they wanted. He just wouldn't stay the night.

"Can we _please_ go now?" Izzy asked again, bouncing up and down next to them. The air was thick with possibility of what could happen later, but Elena seemed to push it out of her mind for the time being and refocused on her niece. "I have to go potty."

"Okay, we really need to go," Elena laughed. "I'll call you later, or you call me, or..."

"We'll figure it out," he smiled. "Enjoy your muppet making. I can't wait to see it later." He wiggled his eyebrows, but as soon as they turned and walk away, his smile faded. As he popped his headphones back into his ears and cranked up the volume until he could hear the beat over the screaming in his head. And just like that, he began to run again. But this time, as he pounded the pavement below him on his journey back to his apartment, his head was anything but clear.

Something had shifted in those few moments with Elena and Izzy, and he was finally willing to let himself accept what that shift inside of him actually meant.

The sinking feeling that had started in his stomach moments ago had since tripled and he'd do anything to get over the hurt. Everyone around him talked about time healing everything, and maybe it would, but right now, here, today, it was alive and throbbing deep in the center of his chest, aching in a way nothing else ever had. No amount of therapy, medication or time could ever give them back what they'd lost. Life had a way of setting you up for big dreams just before it knocked you on your ass. It could happen to anyone at anytime. They were no exception.

* * *

_**January 9th, 2009**_

Damon's fingers tapped out a rhythm against Elena's kitchen table. His eyes were stuck on a yellow sticky note on her fridge. **January 17 – Dr. Appt** was written in thick black marker, and the date was circled on the calendar hanging on her wall. January 17th, the day she'd get her first ultrasound. The day they'd go to the doctor together and hope to hear the heartbeat. Hope to see the flutter of a little heart on the screen telling them everything was okay. It had to be okay. There were no other options; the kid was a Salvatore.

He took a sip of his coffee as she came through the front door wearing a pair of mesh pants and running shoes and carrying a sack of groceries. As he stood to pull the bag away from her, he noticed the beads of sweat on her forehead and frowned.

"Were you running through the aisles or something?"

"I...no..." she looked away and busied herself with stocking a box of saltines into the cabinet behind him. "I'm fine."

"You look like you ran a marathon," he pressed. "You _didn't_ run a marathon, Elena...did you?"

While she'd seemed a little more onboard with the whole baby thing that at first, she was still stubborn as hell when it came to what she wanted. Elena loved exercise...it was a stress outlet...and she was nothing, if not stressed, lately. It didn't matter how much he worried or how may different ways he suggested she took it easy, she did what she wanted and he didn't dare call her selfish for it.

"No. I'm fine. I wasn't running. I wasn't at the gym. I was at the grocery store. I wore these clothes because they're comfortable...I know I'm not really gaining weight yet but I feel different. My body's been feeling different."

"What do you mean?" He frowned and gently pulled her elbow until she glided to him.

"I don't know. I mean, I read it in the pamphlets and stuff that it's normal to kind of feel weird. I guess that's just what it is. I told you I'm not overdoing it. I wish you'd just believe me," He heard the rawness of her voice...the tone she took just before her eyes began to leak without her permission. She was fighting something; she didn't need him fighting her, too.

His head fell into his hands and he sighed before looking up at her. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't know how this all works. All I see is you walking in with a bag of groceries, sweating at 9 a.m. All I know is I woke up to an empty bed and no note. Maybe I'm paranoid."

"You are," she said playfully. "Where would I go, Damon?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "And that's why I'm paranoid."

She let out a breath and wrapped her arms around his torso until she could grab onto her wrists. With her head buried against his chest, she whispered, "You have to learn to trust me," she looked up at him and he swallowed. "I'm doing this. I'm having this baby. I'm trying really hard to make you believe you can trust me."

"I know."

"I'm going to need you to remember that when I tell you what I'm about to tell you," she bit her lip and continued to look into his blue eyes. "I made plans to go out of town with Caroline next weekend. She wants to visit her brother upstate and do some shopping. I'm thinking about telling her about the baby while we're gone. I need this time," she pled.

His jaw tightened, then released. He had no hold on her and if it meant she was willing to open up to others, maybe letting her go was worth it.

"I'm not going to lie. I'll worry like hell until you get back," he paused. "But as long as the doctor says it's okay, I think it's good you're going to have some fun. Promise me you'll cal me if anything happens. Even the smallest thing."

"I promise," she said softly.

* * *

_**Present Day – Elena's apartment 5 p.m.**_

Damon balanced a lidded foam bowl of soup in one hand as he knocked carefully on Elena's door with the other. He'd impulsively stopped at a local sandwich shop on his way over, remembering the raspy sound in her voice. Allergies or not, Elena was always looking for an excuse to eat soup.

He heard two sets of feet walk toward the door, and couldn't help but smile at the tiny fingers curled around the side of the door as it creaked open. The apartment smelled like tomato sauce and his stomach growled. Though she claimed it was from a jar, Elena always found a way to add a personal touch to store bought concoctions. She'd no doubt added some garlic or basil of her own moments before he got there, and the timer counting down on the stove top had him willing to bet there was garlic bread baking in the oven.

"I brought soup," he said, feeling stupid as he handed her the foam bowl. "You don't have to eat it now. I just thought since you weren't feeling well...and I know how much you used to like the French Onion at that little place right off base."

"Thank you," she said simply, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the corner of his mouth. "That was sweet of you." She paused, watching him stuff his hands into his jean pockets, keeping his distance. "I kind of feel more like soup than spaghetti, anyway. Just don't tell Iz."

He nodded once and watched as she resumed her cooking.

"I'm glad you made it," Elena added. "We'd be buried in noodles if you hadn't. You know me. Never have been able to measure the right amount for just two people." Her soft expression eased him slightly and he tugged on the zipper of his thin jacket.

Her eyes slid over his black button up shirt appreciatively and a kick of confidence fluttered in his chest. That second shower of the day was a good decision, but he'd left his stubble alone, remembering the way Elena used to love scratching her fingers through it.

"Hi, Izzy," he smiled at the little brown haired angel with a muppet under one arm. She held it out for him to see with a wide smile on her face, then skipped off into the living room without a word and resumed watching the cartoon playing on Elena's flat screen. He took it as code that she was happy he'd decided to come over, too.

When he was sure they were out of her line of vision and earshot, he walked up behind Elena as she leaned down to pull the sheet of garlic bread from the oven. "It all smells delicious," was all he could manage. Her shoulders relaxed when she set the tray on a potholder on the counter and began assembling her spaghetti on three plates, one of them neon pink.

"It's nothing fancy," she said softly. As she turned, her eyes stuck on his lips. So this was going to be one of _those_ days with Elena...the kind where she was a living, breathing temptation...the kind that made him question his decisions. While it sounded awesome, it was also one of the main reasons he didn't think breaking up their girls' night was such a good idea. He couldn't exactly pull her on his lap with a little kid sleeping in the other room.

"I guarantee you it'll be the best meal I've had in years," he countered, reaching up to rub a wave of her hair between his thumb and index finger.

"Mom's a better cook," she smiled but he shook his head and their eyes locked for a minute before she took a breath, snapped out of it and poured a cup of milk for Izzy. She set it down on a sparkly placemat on the kitchen table and called into the other room that dinner was ready.

"I wanna eat in the living room and watch the movie," Izzy pouted as she stood in the entrance to the kitchen. With her hands on her hips, she looked like she'd gotten a bit of her aunt's attitude problem. He held back a smile at the realization and watched Elena handle the situation like a pro.

"The sauce is messy, honey," she smiled gently and walked over to her. "But as soon as we're done eating we'll watch it, okay?"

"Spaghetti's not fun anymore...but okay..." she said sadly, trudging to the table. It was funny how something so trivial could be the end of the world to a child.

"You know what I used to do as a kid?" Elena's voice perked up and the little girl's face brightened. "When I was your age, I made spaghetti sandwiches."

"Huh?" Izzy's nose scrunched up, but he could see the curiosity in her eyes.

"Watch," Elena said as she broke a piece of garlic bread in two pieces and piled her sauced noodles on one side, then sprinkled on Parmesan cheese before pressing the other piece on top to complete the sandwich.

"Can I have one?" Izzy asked, now excited and bouncing in her chair. Though Elena looked calm throughout the whole thing, he noticed her shoulder relax when her niece responded. Soon they were all making spaghetti sandwiches and washing it down with tall glasses of milk.

The conversation was light, mostly centering around what Izzy was learning in preschool and what they planned to do the following day. The room was full of giggles and the beautiful, unmistakeable sound of Elena's laughter. Her voice was his favorite thing in the world; he'd spent countless nights remembering it...wishing he'd been able to somehow record it to bring it along with him so he could hear her tell him goodnight as he lie restless in the heat.

Elena was breathtaking when she interacted with the small child. It was almost hard to believe he was sitting across from the same woman he'd fallen in love with four years before. While a sadness still lived in her eyes, her defenses were down. Her heart was wide open with this little one and he could only hope that meant it would be the same with him. And maybe it was different for her because they were family, but the easy way she handled Izzy boggled him. How she could come up with things on the fly and tuck that little girl into bed at night without completely breaking down was beyond his understanding. Even now, sitting at the kitchen table with Elena and a smaller version of her broke his heart.

He fell quiet for awhile, but laughed at all the silly parts of Lady and the Tramp when Elena put it on, and made sure to eat his share of popcorn from the giant bowl they'd made. He only caught about half of the movie, though, because Elena was sitting flush against him with Izzy on her lap. He wanted to reach his arms out and wrap it around Elena's shoulder, but it all just felt so out of place. And as the little girl started to fall asleep against Elena's chest, his heart began to weep again.

"I think I'm going to tuck her in," Elena whispered. Her lips were so close to his ear they brushed his skin. He gritted his teeth to keep himself calm, then nodded and scooted over a little so she could get up without waking Izzy. She carried the little girl in the Cinderella pajamas down the hall into the guest room and he imagined her pulling the covers over her and pressing a kiss to the little girl's forehead. He could bet Elena read her stories when she was awake or dreamt up imaginary lands and characters to tell the little girl as she fell asleep. There was not a doubt in his mind; she would have made a wonderful mother.

It wasn't until she emerged from the guest bedroom with the red imprint of Izzy's cheek against her neck that he really, finally felt their loss. It had always been there, he supposed. But it had been buried a bunch of other shit, too hard to separate and fell on it's own. But it had finally reared it's ugly head and it stung like hell.

He was slammed with a deep, incurable ache...a scar inside his heart... the size of a blueberry...without a face...without a name...

A child he would never know. He swallowed before the tears could come, and found himself breathing slowly and counting in his head, a method his therapist had suggested he try when he felt the darkness coming for him. He wasn't completely convinced it worked, but he'd only tried it twice. The first time was when his hands were wrapped around the comforting neck of a bottle of Jack Daniels and the second was when Elena had found him sitting on the frozen sidewalk in the middle of a snowstorm without socks, shoes or a coat. She'd helped him inside as he shivered, all the while hot tears were streaming down her face. Pitying him. It was New Year's Eve...the last time he'd kissed her...the same night he'd told her they had to slow down.

Now this, a third time, as he watched how gentle and loving she was toward this brown-haired child that could very easily pass as her daughter. But counting did nothing to calm the storm in his head. His tears calm slowly but surely, streaking hot lines down his face. Through the blurriness he saw the look of understanding on her face.

"Damon," she choked. Her voice was tangled, dry and thick with emotion on top of her allergies. "Damon, talk to me."

"I think I should go," he breathed, pissed that he'd let himself break down in front of her. But it was their loss, no matter how many years ago. A man could cry over something like this...he just couldn't talk about it. "I'm sorry,"

"Don't be sorry. Just don't go," she reached for his hand, but he pulled it away to wipe his tears, feeling like a fool. "We can't keep running away from each other when it gets hard. I want to know."

Her mood had shifted from playful to sensitive and he realized the night wasn't turning out the way he'd figured it would. He'd tried to run until his head was empty, to push himself until his chest ached from the exertion instead of the heartache. It hadn't worked. One look in her eyes, one touch of her hand on his cheek and he was spiraling back to a time.

"Tell me," she asked gently, tipping her head slightly and tugging her bottom lip between her teeth. "Please."

But he couldn't, could he? Not without finding that little orange bottle and handing her a pill and a glass of water first. This conversation was a fast-track to an anxiety attack. Even his new pills could only help him so much. This was raw and new...fresh as if it had happened weeks ago instead of years.

He clenched his teeth and balled his fists, then worked one hand up to tug through his hair, afraid to admit what had him so worked up. When he got upset like this, there was always a chance he'd start seeing things...hearing things that weren't really there. He shook his head to refuse, but her eyes were big and warm and he wanted to fall into them, to just let go and let her pull him in.

He scrubbed his hands over his face once, then pressed his back against the back of the couch and looked up at the ceiling, unsure of how to even start.

"Seeing you with her," was all he could manage at first. He wasn't even sure it made sense, but if he'd said anything more, he'd probably have broken down. He felt the couch cushion sink in next to him, and soon her warm hand was in his. Her head fell onto his shoulder and she released a sigh. She said nothing, just held his hand, and it became clear that neither one of them were in an okay place with it.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know it's not fair of me to even say it."

"None of it's fair, Damon," she said softly. Her fingers tightened with his and she brought them up to her lips to kiss his knuckles. "None of it."

He stared at the TV, watching animated dogs running around and hoping for the courage to say something else. Her lips were like a sweet balm to his skin, warm and soft and lifesaving.

"Everything happened so quickly," he said. "There wasn't time to talk or sort through it. I was afraid to ask you if you were okay. I knew you weren't...but all I could think of was how maybe you thought it happened for a reason. Maybe you were happier, somewhere deep inside, and we were too fucked up for you to admit it."

She shook her head roughly against his shoulder then raised it to look in his eyes. He kept his eyes forward until her hand found his chin and she forced him to look at her watery eyes.

"I was afraid," her voice broke. "For a lot of reasons, I was terrified. And I know I never actually came right out and said it, but I wanted that baby, Damon. Maybe not at first, but with each passing day, each time I woke up in your arms, I began to want it more," she took a deep breath. "If anything's unfair, it's the fact that I never told you. We could've been happy...at least for a little while. Maybe if we could've been honest with each other, we could've dealt with this sooner."

"But I should've tried, Elena...I should've fucking been there for you. I just didn't know how. And now..." he shook his head and paused. It's like the war all over again. I can't un-see it. I can't forget the way you looked. Christ, Lena. I've never seen anything scarier in my life. I don't know what I would've done if you wouldn't have made it."

She squeezed his hand once and he continued,

"You know, it's cruel how life just expects us to keep going as if it never happened...as if none of it ever happened."

"We should be grateful for that," she said softly. "My head was a very dark place for awhile, Damon. Very dark. I spent so much time being this woman who didn't need anyone or anything. Before I'd even gotten it straightened out in my head, I was already in so deep with you. In the blink of an eye, everything I loved was gone. The baby...you..." a tear slid down her cheek and his heart clenched.

Life had terrible timing. How cruel was the universe to pull them apart when all they needed was to be together. Maybe if he hadn't been deployed things would've been different. Maybe she would've believed him when he said he was proposing because he loved her, not because he felt sorry for her. His temples began to pound with guilt and regret over all the things he'd never gotten to finish.

"Baby, I'm so sorry..." he brushed away her tears with the backs of his fingers.

"You did what you had to do. Of course I understood it. I know it didn't seem like I did at the time. The darkness in my head was my own fault. I was afraid to let it out, afraid to share it with anyone...even you, when I had the chance. Instead it consumed me and you were forced to stand by, watching from the outside. I'm the one who's sorry, Damon. Sorry for letting you down.

"But even before that. You were right to worry. I pushed it too hard and too far. I couldn't admit to myself that something might be wrong. I blew it, Damon, and despite what everyone else says, I'll never really know the truth. I have to live the rest of my life with the fact that if I'd been a little less stubborn our baby might have lived."

* * *

_**January 10**__**th**__**, 2009**_

Damon stepped out of Elena's shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, padding with wet, bare feet across her bedroom carpet. He pulled open the top drawer of her dresser and stepped into a pair of boxer briefs, then stood before her closet, sliding the hangers of her clothes across the bar until he reached the small selection he'd started to leave there just a week earlier. It was strange how happy it made him to see his clothes hanging with hers. It just felt right, and he intended to keep it that way.

Her alarm sounded and he turned to watch her shift beneath the covers. The sight of her morning hair and sleepy eyes calmed him and a smile crossed his lips when she sat up. Each day stood the chance to be the first day without morning sickness, though he'd read a few articles in the pamphlets and books she'd brought home that she still had a few weeks to go before they were in the clear.

She'd been slow to the idea at first, but over the last week her eyes had looked warmer when he mentioned her upcoming doctor appointment. Soon they'd get an ultrasound and he had a feeling as soon as she saw that tiny beating heart on the screen, she'd be completely in. Already his imagination was blooming with pictures of what their son or daughter would look like. The hair color was blurry, but he or she would have Elena's eyes. Surely. Eyes like those were meant to carry on, long past her lifetime, into future generations. Looking into her eyes calmed him like nothing else ever could. It was as if they were an entrance to Heaven, and made him curse the years he'd loved being a sinner.

He slipped a T-shirt over his head and took a seat next to her on the bed as she blinked her eyes open slowly. It was only a matter of time before she'd make her way to the bathroom and throw up what little food she had resting in her stomach. He'd always thought pregnant women liked to eat, but Elena insisted on crackers and beef jerky and not a whole lot else. The last thing he wanted to do was push her, but he was starting to worry. He released a powerless sigh and pressed a kiss on her cheek, onto of the strands of wavy, matted hair stuck to her face.

"Ugh, I feel disgusting," she slammed her head back and stared up at the ceiling.

"You look beautiful," he smiled and lowered himself down to kiss her lips, then ran his hand gently under her oversized T-shirt to graze the bare stomach of her skin lightly with his fingertips. "How about some breakfast?"

"I'll make some toast," she snuck her legs out from under the covers and rested her feet on the damp carpet where he'd walked. The contact of the water sent a shiver through her system and she clamped a hand over her mouth, barely making it into the bathroom before she said goodbye to last night's midnight snack.

Damon leaned his head against the doorframe of the bathroom as she washed her hands and brushed her teeth. It was over quickly, never more than one or two heaves, and she'd put herself back together within five minutes. Her stubbornness made it hard to help her without seeming like he found her incapable. She was very capable and very independent. And while he loved her more than life itself, he was still so afraid of doing the wrong thing and pushing her too far.

She pressed her hands on his chest and looked up at him in the yellow glow of the bathroom vanity light. Her voice was scratchy when she promised him she was okay, but the sparkle died in her eyes when she frowned and reached to grab her abdomen.

"What's wrong?" He asked, panicked. He blinked over and over again as if it could change the look on her face. He frowned when she said nothing, then he asked again, differently. "Elena, baby, are you okay?"

"Yeah," she managed. "It's just a cramp. It'll clear up in a few minutes."

"How do you know?" His brow was down and tight as he tried to understand. He wanted so badly to believe she was right, but the look of pain on her face wouldn't let him. He cursed under his breath.

"I had them overnight," she said honestly.

"What?!" He shouted. "Why didn't you wake me? Why didn't you say something?"

"They went away," she swallowed. "And I didn't say anything because I was afraid of this," she pointed between them. "I was afraid of scaring you or waking you for no reason. You work hard. I know you're tired."

"What?" He repeated again, but this time it came out as a whisper, as he was shocked. "You're practically doubled over in pain and you're worried about _me_?"

"I know you think I'm pushing myself," she started. "And if I even so much as breathe the wrong way you assume the worst. It's just a little cramp, Damon. I'm dehydrated, I'm sure. I've read the pamphlets. Don't worry, okay? It's nothing. If it's not better by tomorrow I'll call the doctor, but I have my appointment at the beginning of next week anyway."

He watched her carefully as she continued, unsure of what to say. For as bold and confident of a man as he was in every other circumstance, when it came to Elena, he crumbled. He was weak, afraid if he made one wrong move she'd end it...them...because for as open as he was about his love for her, she was still as closed off as ever. It wasn't fair, some might say, but they didn't love her the way he did. They didn't know her...couldn't look into her eyes and see everything couldn't bring herself to say.

"I'm still throwing up," she smiled. "So as far as I'm concerned, everything's still fine."

"You're not going out of town with Caroline, Elena. Not before you see the doctor and not like this. I'm sorry but I'm putting my foot down on this."

"Oh, relax," she sighed. "This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you. You assume the worst."

He scrubbed his face with his hands then stared at her, too frustrated to be cautious. "I love you," he breathed in deeply and continued, "And I would never be angry with you for anything to do with our child, Elena. But you need to stay here today...and we need to figure this out."

"I can take care of myself," she said with a broken voice. And just like that, her emotions were liquid, falling down her face in a way that made him feel like he'd been wrong to stand up to her. "I can make my own decisions."

"Would you stop being selfish for one goddamn minute and listen to yourself! Your'e going to get in a car and drive miles away from home when you're cramping? You're going to drive miles away from the doctor with a woman who doesn't even know your condition and you expect me to just sit here on my ass and nod my head because I'm afraid of hurting your feelings?" He was angry now, and stressed. He hadn't meant for it to sound so cruel, but he was on fire and there was no stopping him now. "I've done nothing but be respectful of you and your wishes since this whole thing began. I've bitten my tongue so many times to keep myself from saying things I knew would piss you off so many times I'm surprised it still even works."

He frowned when she frowned. Making her unhappy was never on his to-do list, but if they were going to have a future, she'd need to start at least listening to what he had to say about the big issues. "If you want this to work, Elena, you'll stop trying to be so tough all the time and actually take some help. Especially from me."

Her eyes welled with tears and he almost thought she was about to break...that he might've finally gotten through to her, but when her lips parted, his heart sank.

"I'm going upstate, Damon." She said seriously. "Not because I'm stubborn. Not because I'm selfish," she paused, staring him dead in the eyes. "I'm going because we need the time apart."

* * *

**Thanks for reading! As you can probably guess, we're in for some interesting stuff in the coming chapter. **


	15. Clarity

**A/N: Thank you so much for sticking around! I'm really very sorry for how long it took me to update. I've missed my story and my characters and writing in general. And I've missed hearing your thoughts, too. **

**We're diving right into the heart of the matter in this one, which I know from some of your reviews is going to be a little bit difficult to read. I promise, if you stick it out through the crazy sad stuff, you'll be rewarded with some crazy good stuff in present day. Hint: Mature content at the end, but don't you dare skip ahead ;) **

**This chapter starts out in Elena's POV, as I really wanted to spend sometime in her head as she deals with this inevitable tragedy. The present, however, will be centered around Damon's POV. **

**I've chosen "Clarity" by Zedd feat. Foxes for this one. Upbeat and kind of a weird choice, you may think? While there are slower versions that are equally as beautiful, I chose it for the lyrics. It may make more sense in the end of this chapter.**

**Thanks again for reading and as always, for your reviews. I'll do my best to crank out an update in a legitimate time frame this go around! **

* * *

**Through the Ghost**

**Chapter 14: Clarity**

**January 12, 2009**

Through glassy eyes, Elena tossed heaps of clothes into her duffel and struggled to zip it closed. Big, hot tears slid down her cheeks and wiped them away with her sleeve angrily. Her head pounded harder and she pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes.

"_Just fucking stop it, Elena!"_ she croaked with a voice so raw, so rough she barely recognized it. The thick lump in her throat had been there since she walked away from Damon just two days ago, and she'd been a mess of emotions since, bouncing from angry to sad and back with every beat of her heart.

"Just STOP IT!" she shouted at the top of her worn lungs, pushing her hands into her temples as if she could squeeze every bad thought out of her mind.

The pain shooting around inside her abdomen reminded her this was real. Yes, it hurt...but the physical pain wouldn't last forever. Bodies were only so strong, only so tough; sometimes they bent and other times they broke but they almost always healed. She couldn't say the same about her mind.

Her mind was a fragile place, broken in more pieces than anyone knew. And this pain was the worst she'd ever felt. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how many times she told herself to suck it up, deal with it, _it's what you wanted in the first place anyway, isn't it?_, her heart just wouldn't listen. This ache was deeply rooted within her, and her heart was tugging, trying so hard to free itself from the situation. To go cold, hard, solid, so she could just close her eyes and not feel anything at all. To just not care.

It just wasn't working.

Frustrated to the point of despair, her tears splashed onto her hand and she gripped the canvas fabric sides so tightly her knuckles turned white. And she felt like a child for the first time in a long time, as the gears in her head started reminding her how life was so very unfair. Nothing ever worked the way it was supposed to. Not family. Not love. She'd always been only able to count on herself, and now now her own body was betraying her. She couldn't even carry a child without fucking something up. The worst part was that she'd started to believe Damon when he said she'd be a good mother...

She'd actually started to believe every wonderful little thing he'd said. And now she'd become just another disappointment in his life. She'd walked away like a stubborn fool, and she'd seen a slice of resentment flicker through his eyes at her defiance. It hurt like hell to walk away from him...but she knew what was coming...would be stupid not to...and there was no way in hell she could let him see it, too. When real life hit, she dealt better alone. No one could see this breakdown.

Finally managing to get the overstuffed bag closed, she fell backwards on the bed and stared up at the ceiling through tired eyes. Her nerves were shot to hell, her eyes swollen and blurry. And as her heart hammered harder in her chest, she couldn't decide which had been the more selfish choice – letting Damon fall in love with her, a woman with trust issues, or not telling him she felt the same. If she were really all the wonderful things he'd said she was, she wouldn't have pushed him away at the first sign of trouble. She would've wrapped herself up tightly in his arms, buried her nose in his neck and sobbed until she fell asleep.

One thing was for sure; she had a damn good poker face. It was great asset in the military but a terrible one when it came to relationships. The look on Damon's face as he stormed out of her apartment two days ago had her thinking she was a better actress than she knew. Her fear was mistranslated into selfishness, and an ordinary trip she'd planned with Caroline had somehow turned into something malicious. She'd even convinced herself she wanted time away from him.

What she wanted...needed...was for something in life to finally just work out for once. She loved her family, but as far as she was concerned, she was the reason her father had died. That was enough guilt to last a life time, and that wasn't even the half of it! Her attempt at self-discipline was a failure. One look at Damon Salvatore and she'd wanted to forget every sorry excuse she'd ever made not to fall in love. And now this. This child...this life she was clinging to with every breath she had simply because she couldn't say goodbye to even one more person she loved...

Afraid she'd screw it up to begin with, she'd almost gone in and had that abortion without even telling him. Considering the way she felt about him, a decision like that would've only added to her guilt. If they actually did have any sort of future together, that was a secret that would end it before it even began. Her head was full and ached everything she'd ever done wrong. She swore her heart rate had quadrupled in the last few minutes. The room was spotty and it was getting hard to breathe.

What the hell was wrong now? Was this depression? She'd always assumed it crept up slowly...that she wouldn't just wake up one day and feel like her life was really over. So much for gradual.

This feeling in her gut was something powerful. As miserable as she felt, she only wanted to be left alone. She would be, of course, because she'd done such a good enough job pissing Damon off a day ago that he'd left her alone. He'd called her twice, but she'd been too pissy to answer, and the messages he left were all over the place. First he sounded angry, but by the second he was clearly regretting some of the things he'd said. She deserved it though, for the way she'd stood there with that cocky look in her eyes and pretended everything was okay and that he was the one in the wrong, because if she actually admitted what might really be happening inside her body, she'd surely go off the deep end.

So when she was here alone, in the dark with her pillows and blankets that still smelled like Damon's fresh body wash and shampoo, she was able to deal in a way she always had. Damon was one of the few people she actually cried in front of, but alone, she could cry and cry until her stomach muscles were sore enough to make her believe it was the only reason she was in pain.

Because she could _not_ have a miscarriage. She couldn't fail again... And this time it was worse. She'd failed her family as a child, first with her dad, then with being withdrawn and uninterested. Now she was in love and the thought of failing and disappointing him somehow felt scarier. But worst of all, if this happened...if this baby died, it wouldn't just be the worst failure in her entire life. The loud voices in her head told her if she let this baby die, she'd never be okay again. If they lost this child, things with Damon would never be the same. How could she ever look at him and not think of it? And how, after being so stubborn and selfish for so long, could she tell him the truth...that she wanted this baby, that she wanted him, and when it was all said and done, she just wanted them to be happy.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to fall asleep. She'd closed the blinds, keeping out the bright snowscape, and balled herself up in the middle of the bed in a heap of blankets. She toyed with the idea of texting Caroline and telling her she was too sick to go on the trip. She would be there to pick her up in a few hours, and if she could just get some sleep, maybe it would just all go away. She'd wake up and realize the last few days had been nothing more than a panic fueled nightmare, and after their trip, she'd take Damon to the doctor to hear the heartbeat and he'd look at her with those impossibly blue eyes and tell her he loved her.

She'd finally committed to something within herself and it was all just slipping away. She was rendered powerless again, a hollow vessel with nothing but regret. In her own mind, she'd failed them. And if she didn't have the guts to tell him she was in love with him, she definitely couldn't tell them she was losing their child. She couldn't bear to see the light die in his eyes. And that was the last thing she thought of before she tumbled into a restless sleep...

* * *

"Elena!" A heavy knock on her front door shot her out of sleep. She registered a voice, but was too weak and worn to make it out who it belonged to.

Startled awake, she gripped her side and cringed as she sat up against the back of her pillows. It took just a second for it all to register and for her to realize her pain was still very real. Caroline was probably there, ready to take her on their trip and what the hell was she going to tell her? She'd really backed herself into a corner by not telling anyone other than Damon about the pregnancy.

"Elena. I've been calling your for the last twenty minutes. I can hear your phone ringing through the door!" Her heart slammed harder as she realized the pounding fist belonged to Damon.

He couldn't see her like this...not even if he really did love her.

With a breath she climbed out of bed and walked to the door. The tears had since dried, but a quick glance in the mirror told her she still looked like hell. She pressed her head against the hard door and swallowed. As if he could feel her near, his voice softened to a near whisper.

"Open the door, baby. I'm not here to fight. I'm sorry, okay? I'm so sorry!" she heard a small thud against the door and imagined his forehead pressed against it to, opposite of hers. It reached something deep and strong inside of her, and she felt butterflies flapping their wings, trying to beat away the sick feeling in her abdomen. A small cry slipped from her lips as she slid down the length of the door, her face still pressed against the cold wood. The pain was almost unbearable now, but she was fighter. Stubborn as hell until the day she'd die, she told herself, and if she had to die to prove it today, she would. She'd rather die than see one more ounce of pain and disappointment in Damon's eyes due to her.

"No," she managed, and she knew he heard it because the door knob started to rattle. "Please. I just want to be alone. I just need to be alone."

"The hell you do! I'm going to beat this damn door in if you don't open it, Lena. I swear to God you're scaring me here. Tell me what's going on with you! Tell me what's going on with my baby...please..." he yelled loudly. Desperate to shut him up before anyone else heard, she turned the lock on the knob and sat on her bed, staring as she waited for him to enter.

When he did walk in, his eyes were rimmed with red as if he'd been crying. And because she loved him, it made her own eyes still. The pain on his face was very real, and it was all because of her. "I'm sorry I upset you. Don't shut me out. Please, baby," he said slowly, running his hands across his buzzed hair over and over again as he approached the bed. He sat next to her and squeezed her hand. "You've gotta let me in...you have to let me help you,"

She shook her head and pulled her knees up on the bed to rest her head on one of them.

"Let me take you to the doctor. Let me take you to the hospital...please..."

"I'm fine. I'm _fine_, Damon," she bit out standing. If she told herself she was fine, she would be. Just like every other time she'd started to feel sad...

"You're not! You're not fine!"

"I have to be fine, ok? We have no other choice..." she whispered. "I just need to use the bathroom."

But once inside and alone, she gripped the edge of the bathroom sink and stared at herself in the mirror. It was getting worse. Harder to believe this was just an isolated thing. She hadn't felt right in days, but now she knew. Her hands shook when she saw the blood.

"Talk to me, baby," he plead. The walls were thin and she was sure she was only silently sobbing, but he wasn't stupid. She'd been in there, wordless, for 10 minutes and wasn't planning on coming out anytime soon.

Without a word, she turned on the spray of the shower and climbed in, curling herself into a clump against the back wall and gasping as she watched it all slip away. She was too shocked and too sad to say a word, and the longer she sat there, the weaker she got. Sure she was too dizzy to stand, she pressed her head against the shower wall and waited for it to pass. It was then she remembered just how long it had been since she'd eaten anything.

"I'm about to come in there, Elena. Seriously," Damon raised his voice as her hand started to turn the door knob to the bathroom. "You've lost your chance to come willingly. I'm going to break down that door, pick your little ass up and carry you to my car," he said finally as he burst into the steamy bathroom. His eyes snagged on the drops blood on the tile leading to the tub and he let out a cry.

"No..no...no no no..," he whipped open the shower curtain and her eyes immediately filled with tears. "Wake up," he shook her shoulder and reached up to her neck to check for a pulse. It was slow, but present. "Wake the hell up, Elena!" she couldn't open her eyes, but his frantic words registered in her mind.

He was probably kicking himself for not calling 911 the minute he saw the pained look in her eyes, he pulled out his phone and punched in the digits. As he spewed frantic, fuzzy words into the phone, he clutched her to him. She'd have given anything to tell him she was going to be okay.

* * *

Elena woke in the dim light of her hospital room. She'd been there for hours, one of the nurses said when she asked what time it was, and the sympathetic look in her eyes when she'd said it told Elena exactly what had happened.

She'd lost her baby. Damon's baby. Their baby. She'd lost the future, and it hurt like hell. She just felt empty.

"Hey," she heard him say, and her body shivered at the sound of his voice. She felt like a fool for all of it, and wasn't sure how she'd manage to look into his eyes. But she barely had time to plan her move before Damon was up and standing over her. He was trying to be brave, she realized. Brave for her, so she wouldn't break down. Brave so she could lean on him. Brave so she didn't have to be...

Then she saw a deep sadness flash in his eyes, but was too afraid to address it.

"You're awake," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. His lips were warm and soft and comforting, and she didn't deserve it.

"Did I lose...I mean...is it gone...?" She couldn't manage much more. He nodded sadly, then squeezed her hand. Both stayed silent for awhile, afraid to say the wrong thing.

The clock read 5 p.m. She was supposed to be at Caroline's brother's house by now. They were supposed to be laughing and getting away from it all. Now she was stuck in a painful reality that almost wish they'd never found her at all.

"The doctor said there was nothing you could've done," he said, noticing her jaw tightening. "It's not your fault."

She turned to him with a humorless laugh. She was broken and fragile and there was no way in hell he should let her off so easily. She'd done this. She'd killed their baby. She'd pushed it too far, not listened, been stubborn. It didn't matter what the doctor said about how fast they'd gotten her to the hospital. If she'd have taken better care of herself to begin with...if she'd loved this baby from the start...maybe then it wouldn't have left her. Even with the beautiful, loving look in Damon's eyes, she'd never felt more hollow.

"Really, Elena. Even if you would've come days ago it wouldn't have mattered. You can't blame yourself...and I'm sorry if I've made this worse..."

She should apologize to him...for everything...and for the cold way she was acting now. But she couldn't bring herself to think about. His sensitivity was just what she needed, and she was taking it, selfishly, without any indication of her own disappointment. She watched him analyze her. He was checking to see if she was sad or hurting or, sickeningly enough, relieved...

Maybe she was a little bit of each. She couldn't wrap her head around what it all meant. She just wanted to go to sleep. She just wanted to stop feeling. Even loving Damon was starting to hurt...

"I'm tired, Damon," she whispered when he pressed a kiss to her lips.

"I know," he sat back down on the chair next to her and squeezed her hand. "You've been through hell today. The doctors said you can leave in a few hours as long as you feel up to it. We can go home."

_We can go home. Home. As in together..._

But wasn't he angry with her? He should be. If not for the way she'd pushed herself then surely for the way they'd left things. But not a trace of anything but love floated in his eyes, and it was the final nail in her coffin of emotion. Her heart heavier with guilt with every passing moment, she felt as if any second she would break apart.

"Damon..." his name left her lips in a struggled breath and he swallowed before continuing. In her head she said _I'm sorry_, but when she actually heard herself speaking, it came out as, "Does Caroline know? I mean, I was supposed to meet with her and..."

"No," he swallowed. "She begged me to tell her when I called to let her know you wouldn't be making it on the trip, but I didn't." he voice broke, but his eyes stayed locked with hers. It was obvious now from the mist in his eyes; he was holding it together because she couldn't. And holy hell didn't that make her feel even worse.

She'd done this to him. To them. And in her mind, things would never be the same. They couldn't be...not after she'd treated this whole situation as if hadn't ever mattered. How the hell was she supposed to look into his eyes and let herself shatter the way she needed to? Shouldn't some part of her feel relieved that it's just all over? That they could start over? That she could let him be free...away from her madness...if that's what he wanted?

But God, if this didn't end her, losing Damon definitely would.

She took a deep breath through her nose and caught his eye once, sadly, before letting herself slip into sleep for a few hours. She couldn't remember ever being so tired, so hollow, so broken. And she couldn't remember ever loving someone as much as Damon. If only she could find the words to tell him how she really felt. About everything...

If she only knew how little time she had left with him. If only she knew what living her life without Damon would actually feel like...

* * *

**Two days later**

Elena lay curled up in a ball in the middle of her bed. She'd been wearing the same hoodie and sweatpants since she'd gotten home from the hospital and only bothered to get out of bed to use the bathroom. Her eyes were closed, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get it dark enough inside her head. She wanted blackness, like the feeling inside her. Emptiness. Hollowness. It even hurt to smile.

She couldn't imagine what it would feel like if she'd been further along.

"Okay, that's it," she heard Damon say from across the room. He hadn't left, she knew. Not even for an hour since they'd gotten home. He was leaning in her doorframe, she pictured, with his arms crossed and a deep look in his blue eyes that would be enough to shatter the last living part of her. And that's why she couldn't open her eyes. His voice alone told her he was worried.

"You need to get up. Get air and food and a shower..."

"Thanks a lot," she said, her voice dry and raspy.

"You you know what I meant."

His voice got closer and she felt him press into the bed next to her. His hands moved up to tug the hood off her head and ran the back of his right hand along her cheek. It was hot and wet, as if she'd cried so much in the last few days her skin had refused to dry. When his fingertips worked their way along her neck lightly, her skin prickled up in gooseflesh.

"I've been watching you for days, and I promise you it has been hell keeping my mouth shut. I know how much you need your choices, but when they're stupid ones," he paused when he saw her brown furrow. "I'm sorry, Elena. I can't just stand here and watch you rot and not try to do anything."

She said nothing, just swallowed and squeezed her eyes more tightly shut. "Open your eyes."

"No. I'm tired."

"Maybe so," he sighed and tried to string something together that was good enough to make her believe he wanted what was best for her. "But if you'd eat and drink and just sit up with me, you'd feel better. Your body's going to shut down if you don't start taking care of it."

"I don't feel well," she said quietly. "I'm try tomorrow."

"I'm sorry," he whispered and his face fell into his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. She was stressing him out. She could hear by the way his normally strong, cocky voice now strained. "I'm so sorry, Elena. But I can't lose you, too. I won't give up...even if it means you end up hating me for it,"

Her eyes creaked open from behind swollen lids. Through the waves of tears in her eyes, she saw his blue eyes for the first time in days. And there it was again...the same love. She blinked a few times until he was clear. He was looking at her as if she were his entire world. He made her feel beautiful, even in a dirty pair of light grey sweats. Amazing.

Before she could get a word in, he'd pressed his head onto her salt-soaked pillow and pulled her into his arms, against his chest, where it was so warm she couldn't force herself away. She needed him more than she'd even known. Somehow, though she'd wanted to be alone in her darkness, in her aching, being in his arms eased her ache, if only a little. And it had nothing to do with the fact that he'd just lost a piece of himself, too. It had everything to do with the fact that he was Damon and she was so in love with him that he managed to comfort her.

"I could nev...never hate y..you..," she managed through shuddering breaths. Her hands clung to his ARMY T-shirt in fists. She was stretching it out, for sure, but hardly cared. And just as she was about to go into how much she'd understand if he hated her for everything she'd done to destroy them, her chest clogged and ached, as though someone had set a dozen bricks on her and walked away.

She gasped for air, but with every breath the dizzying stars became brighter, more real. The ringing in her ears told her she was moments away from passing out, though she couldn't be certain if it was from malnourishment or if she'd just lost her mind.

Regardless, she felt herself shaking against his body, thrashing as if she could shake off the pain. His voice was deep and sweet, though his words were thick and fuzzy. She thought he said _I love you_, but the ringing in her ears made it impossible to be sure.

"Please don't tell anyone," she begged him. "Please don't tell them..."

"They'll wonder why you're sick and I'm sure as hell not letting you get right back on the job," he swallowed. "But only them. They'll keep it quiet. You can't lie about this. You need to rest, take some time..."

"I wasn't even far along. I'll recover I'm just..." she shook her head and stopped, gasping for air. His big eyes flared in panic and he tried to register the terror on her face. "Just stop...just stop talking about it...I can't, okay?"

He blinked once, then pulled her into his lap and cradled the back of her skull gently in his big hand. His fingers slipped between the strands of her hair as he held her forehead down on his shoulder so he could whisper in her ear.

Though he wouldn't realize it yet, it was only the beginning of her attacks.

"You're okay," his voice was calming, but she struggled against him, pushing her fists against his chest to gasp for air. "Just breathe for me. Deep, slow breaths." His voice tickled her ear softly and she shivered, still affected by him. "Nothing can hurt us now."

As her breath shuddered in her chest, she slowly pulled back to look in his glistening eyes. She stared deep enough into them to see past the worry and sorrow. The longer she stared the more she saw it. Love. Real, pure, unmistakeable love. He moved a wave of hair away from her ear and kissed it in that tender way that said _I love you_ without a single word.

Damon was just that. Love. He was better than any anxiety medicine she would ever take. She fisted his shirt again and fell against his chest, burying her face in his neck and breathing in his scent until her body stopped shaking and her lungs calmed down. The steady, quiet rise and fall of his chest kept her breathing. She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep, too afraid he'd ask questions she wasn't ready to answer, but when he shifted her in his arms to kiss her straight, dry lips, she couldn't stop her lips from tugging up into a small smile.

As long as she had Damon, she could breathe.

"That's my girl, Lena," he he smiled against her lips. "That's my smile. Don't you ever lose that smile..."

* * *

_**Elena's apartment – Present Day**_

Damon watched as a slow, thick tear streaked down her cheek. Her eyes were fixed on her bare toes, propped up on her coffee table. Somewhere along the lines he'd switched the television to mute, and he listened to her breathing carefully as he watched the cartoons dance across the screen.

"I was nothing but a liar, Damon. I wasn't okay. I was dead inside. Completely and utterly dead. But you," she said shakily, "you were so strong and so bright through it all. I didn't deserve it. Not any of it."

"Never, not even for a minute, did I think less of you," he told her seriously.

"I sent you off to war thinking I didn't care about our baby..."

He shook his head quickly, anxious to get that nonsense out of her mind. "I dreamed about you. Every night. And never once was I angry. Never once was a I resentful. I only loved you. I only _ever_ loved you."

His shaky hand found her knee and he gently squeezed, daring a glance into her big, pools of melting chocolate. They'd been talking about the past, but the same rang true right now. Never, had he ever, not even for a blink of an eye, not been in love with Elena Gilbert.

The silence allowed him to hear his own heart slamming in his chest. And as his thumb worked in a lazy, comforting circle on her knee, he heard her breath hitch in her chest. He wasn't sure what to say. Words didn't belong in this moment. His eyes locked with hers and he felt a familiar warmth filling his chest, as if he'd just jumpstarted a part of his heart he'd thought was dead.

In that moment, they were two hearts beating through one emotion that no one else could begin to understand. Reliving it now, talking it through the way they had filled him with a peace he hadn't known possible. And while it still hurt like hell and probably always would, the clarity in her eyes told him she felt the same way. This memory, this moment belonged to them and no one else.

She stared at him quietly until he couldn't take it anymore. He had to touch her, feel her smooth, warm skin in his hands. He ached to comfort her, so he chose the way she'd always loved the most. His fingers slipped between the silky strands of her hair. He caressed it slowly, pressing the tips of his fingers against her scalp and felt her shiver beneath his touch. He didn't even need to do the next part; her head crashed into the hollow of his neck. She rubbed the tip of her nose against his warm skin and inhaled slowly and deeply.

He closed his eyes, hoping they could just fall asleep and wake up calmly with a new understanding from all the silence and tender touches. For the first time ever, he felt they were on the same page. Knowing she'd loved him and loved their baby put to rest so many troubles he'd held in his heart over the years. And even though they couldn't go back and change a thing, there was a certain peace that came with knowing the truth.

It would be enough, and somehow, maybe his love could be enough.

His heart quickened as he felt the press of her lips peppering kisses down the length of his neck. He swallowed as she kissed his Adam's apple, and she smiled against his skin. He squeezed his eyes so tightly he saw stars and tipped his head backward against the couch to allow her better access. His hand massaged the back of her neck as she crawled into his lap and nipped her way up to his jaw. With a free hand he clutched the cushion of the couch roughly as her name growled softly off his lips.

"_Lena_," was all he could manage, but it seemed to get the point across because she'd continued kissing along his jaw until she reached his ear. His hand tightened in her hair. He wanted her so badly...more than a few months ago in his bedroom. More than practically any other time he'd actually gotten to have her. But they'd slowed things way down recently and this was going against the voice of reason in his head, but she felt so damn good, almost like she wanted to be his again.

This was how they healed...how they loved. And it felt good to realize some things never change at all.

"This is..." he stopped, re-evaluating the situation as her teeth sunk into his earlobe. He released the couch and slid his hand down her side until it rested on her hip. "Elena, this is..."

Her breath was hot and quick but not in the way that terrified him as she rasped, "I know what this is..."

He clasped her chin gently between this thumb in index finger a held her mouth just inches from his, so close he could almost taste the sweetness on her lips. He inhaled her flowery, clean scent and

He eyes fluttered open and through his thick, black lashes he saw a wickedly familiar, beautiful smile playing on her lips. "_Do_ you?"

"Yes," she whispered, her hot breath finding its way between his parted lips. Her eyes flicked up from his lips to his eyes and he saw the sparkle he never thought he'd see again. "This is _us_." She slid her long fingernails through the side of his hair until and smiled. "This is just us."

"Us," he repeated the word softly, enjoying the taste of it. It was a simple word, but with a history like theirs, he didn't need a definition. She was very right; this _was_ them. Big, heavy emotions expressed with scorching hot touches and nerve-numbing kisses...sadness so quickly dissolving with every flick of their tongues against each other's skin.

He'd nearly forgotten how quickly her touch and tongue soothed his every ache and need, how her kisses fed his soul. The very first time he'd met her he'd taken notice of her lips. They were so soft and pink and he'd imagined all the thousands of ways they could kiss him. When he'd finally gotten his very first taste, he knew he could never get enough. And her eyes, so big and brown and soulful. Before he knew it, he was drowning in her chocolate pools, sure he'd just found heaven. Now Elena was alive and vibrant in his arms again, her eyes so wild and hungry. How he'd missed that peace in her eyes!

He'd spent so many lonely nights in the desert staring at her picture and wondering if Heaven was the same for everyone or if a person got their own special place. And when the bombs went off and the gunfire sounded oh so close, he squeezed his eyes shut and imagined what_his_ Heaven would be. It would be a healthy, happy Elena holding a wiggly little baby whose voice sounded like an angel when she cried out for him.

In fact, it had been years since he'd seen this spark between them, this look in her eyes. In this moment, the clouds between them had lifted and they could just see each other without the heartache, without the pain.

She smile her special smile at him, the one that he'd always believed meant _I love you_, and was slammed with a sudden surge of courage.

He tucked a loose wave of her hair behind her hair and she moved in slowly toward his lips, but he needed to say something before they made contact. It wasn't too often he felt this surge of emotion within him, and the way things were these days, he wasn't sure how long it would be before they'd have a moment like this again.

"This smile," he ran his index finger along her bottom lip slowly. "This is mine." He whispered, almost inaudibly. He knew his words registered with her when she sunk her teeth into the pink flesh. He smiled, this time running the pad of his thumb over the flesh. "This is the smile that kept me alive all those nights in the desert. This is the smile I'd have died to protect,"

She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth then pulled away to look back into his eyes.

"And those eyes," he rasped. "I killed men for those eyes." As if on cue, her eyes fell closed as a tear slowly slipped down each cheek. He kissed each one away slowly, each tear a mix of salt and love. Her hands smoothed over the scruff of his cheeks, as she clung to every admission he made.

"I lived a little and died a lot on that battlefield just to come home and hold you like this, look at you like _this_," he growled, a tear of his own slipping out of his eye. "And I'd be a fucking fool if I didn't tell you this right now."

He heard her breath catch in her throat, so he went for it.

"When that bomb went off and all those pretty little stars appeared before my eyes and I was sure I was about to take my last breath, I only saw you. Your eyes. Your smile. I felt your hands, warm against my skin, as you touched my face. You told me not to go, not to leave you...so I couldn't. I didn't. I held the hell on, and when the guys talked me down from the shock I'd gone into, they told me I'd been screaming your name," he tipped his forehead against hers and exhaled slowly, overwhelmed with memories. "I couldn't die knowing you were home, hurting, waiting for me. I couldn't die without telling you that you're my favorite thing. "

Her fingers slid to the back of his head and wound in his thick, dark hair. She crushed her lips to his roughly, capturing his breath in her lungs. Something about this kiss was different. They'd gotten pretty hot Christmas Eve, but they'd been all lips and hands and heavy breathing, desperate to make up for years of being apart. His kisses were slow on her lips, loving and devouring. He broke from her lips quickly to kiss her forehead and the length of her neck before consuming her swollen mouth again.

"I could kiss you all night," she breathed against his lips. "Stay with me, please, Damon..." she begged, nibbling his lower lip until his hands tightened around her waist, holding her on his lap. "Sleep in my bed with me..."

His head thundered with a thousand no's. There were so many things that could go wrong if they slipped into bed together. While she'd been handling his issues well, she hadn't seen one of his really bad trigger moments. He was strong...stronger than he liked. Some of the women who'd nearly ended up in his bed when he'd lived in Chicago learned that the hard way.

Some things were so heavy they were just out of his control. And if he hurt her, even in his sleep, he'd never forgive himself.

And there was the whole foot thing. What if he wasn't as mobile? What if he wasn't as good?

"I can't, Elena," he shook his head against her, but she pressed her center against tightly him, rocking into him, persistent in refusal to let this go.

"Don't make me beg you," she whispered in his ear. "Don't make me remind you just how long it's really been for us," she licked along the shell of his ear and he let out a muffled groan. "I've been fucking you in my head for three years..."

He nodded, pressing her hips down harder to feel her against him.

"Even when I was angry. Even when I was completely pissed. It was always you in my head,"

"Hell, Elena," he kissed her had to keep her quiet, but the sounds she made just make things harder. A lot harder. "Don't say that kind of stuff with your little niece in the other room. What if she comes out here and sees this?"

"She won't," she smiled against his lips seductively, tugging at his wrists to pull him off the couch. She bit her lip as she walked him backwards toward her bedroom, pushing open the door behind him. "She's like a baby bear or something. I swear she goes into hibernation. It's really crazy for a little kid like that to sleep so hard. Guess she got that from my brother..."

Eyeing her bed, he tugged his shirt over his head, unable to stop himself from moving closer to her. Quick as a flash of lightening, he had her on her back, shirtless on her bed, as he blazed fiery kisses from her lips down over her breasts to her flat stomach. He hadn't shaved that day, and the stubble bit against her wildly as she squirmed. It felt like forever since they'd been like this. So close, so hungry, so intimate.

Consumed by the need to heal every bad thing between them, he found himself kneeling at the end of the bed before her, peeling off her tight pants. She muffled her cries in a pillow when his mouth worked its way up her legs, licking a path from her ankle bone up to her center, then back down the other leg.

He felt her hands knot in his thick hair as she pressed his head down to toward the spot between her thighs. "Damon," she whimpered, "Yes, please, baby."

Deliberately slow, his tongue worked it's way under the fabric of her black panties and for the life of him, he couldn't imagine why he'd ever pushed this woman away. He tugged at the fabric, shoving them aside and worked slowly and skillfully in ways he knew would driver her wild. Three years hadn't erased a thing from his memory when it came to this. Before he knew it she was coming undone, screaming his name into the pillow that had been holding her head up just moments ago.

Her cheeks were a pretty shade of pink and her breathing jagged as she tugged on his jeans. The glow of her skin set him on fire...made him believe he could do this...that there was nothing in the whole damn world that could stand between him and the girl he'd been forced to leave behind three years ago.

"God, Damon...I love..."

Stopping his movements, he looked up to meet her eyes and was hit with a dose of reality. Crushing his lips to hers before she could finish her sentence, his head spun with worry.

Love. Love what? Love sex? Love _him_?

This woman, pliable and soft between his fingers was _his_ Elena, and this was not the way he wanted to reclaim her after three years of being apart. He couldn't hear her tell him she loved him while she was spread out beneath him. She deserved so much better than a random, unexpected quickie. He had so many things to figure out...so many feelings he needed to explain.

The better parts of his anatomy would kick his ass for it, but he couldn't sleep with her like this. Not so rushed. Not with her little niece in the next room over...even if she did sleep like a bear. And not if there was even the slightest chance he'd lose control...forget where he was...who he was with...

"You're beautiful," he smiled. "And sexy as hell," his hands slowed on her bare thighs as he kissed up them once more. She propped herself up on her elbows and stared at him. "And you have no idea how badly I just want to rip these the rest of the way off you and just..." he stopped and moved back up to her lips, pressing a kiss on her forehead.

"But?" She smiled and he detected disappointment, but her eyes were lit with understanding as she crawled further into the bed and flipped open the covers for him to get in.

"But it'll a big deal to even sleep in the same bed with you, let alone _sleep_ with you," he admitted. "I don't trust myself. I don't trust my head. Not yet,"

"I trust you."

"Maybe you shouldn't," he found her shirt and tried tugging it back over her head, but she shook her head and bit her lip. Her eyes were locked on his button up bunched on the ground next to him, and he slid the big sleeves over her tiny arms as she pressed the collar of it to her nose to catch his scent. God, she was making this hard.

"It's worse than you think, okay? I could hurt you without even knowing it," He peeled a sweaty clump of hair away from her neck to cool her down and pressed a tender kiss to her temple. "It's safer this way, trust me."

"You would never hurt me," she shook her head.

"Funny how an orgasm can make you forget a few years of me being an ass, huh?" He wiggled his eyebrows playfully and she nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. "I'll stay until you fall asleep but then I'm gonna scoot. When baby bear wakes up, it's probably best she find you alone in your bed. Unless you feel like explaining the birds and the bees so Jeremy doesn't have to..." he teased, letting his back fall into one of her soft pillows.

She frowned but he winked and tugged her closer to his chest. "You're welcome for the shirt. Lucky I have a white one to wear home or you'd _have _to keep me here."

Silence took the place of words for awhile, and the clock on the wall told him it was almost time to go. Suddenly, with her warm face pressed against his chest, it dawned on him that they'd just survived the most difficult conversation of their lives without medicine and without screaming. Jesus. Maybe there was hope after all!

"Elena?" He managed through a dry throat.

"Yes?" Her voice was sleepy against his chest and instantly put a smile on his face.

"Tonight was good," he whispered. She looked up at him with a smirk but he shook his head. "That, too, but I'm talking about us. You have no idea how good it feels to talk to you...to know I can even after all that's tried coming between us. Sometimes it feels like no one will ever understand me but you."

"When it's just you and me, nothing else matters. Tell me you won't give up," she said seriously, looking up into his eyes in the dark room. "Tell me you'll keep fighting and I'll do the same."

He kissed her lips slowly and pulled the covers up to her shoulders. "I waited three years for you. I can wait a little longer just to be safe. Because you're right, Elena. Nothing, not one thing in this world, has ever mattered as much as this. And nothing _ever_ will."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading. Going to do my best to get the next chapter up soon. Sorry again for the delay! **


	16. I'm Yours

**A/N: I am so happy to get this updated much faster than the last time! Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed. The feedback has been wonderful. **

**This whole chapter takes place in present day, as I really wanted to shift the focus to current DE. The italicized lines in the beginning are partial lyrics to a Staind song, Zoe Jane, which is actually about a father/daughter relationship. I chose it, however, because all I could think about was Damon listening to a part of a song that reminded him of how it felt when he had to leave Elena. **

**This is NOT the deployment chapter, though it is coming. **

**Finally, the title of this chapter is based on "I'm Your's" by The Script. Not Jason Mraz...that's too overdone. While listening to music I stumbled upon this song and was shocked at how very TTG DE it is. I hadn't heard it before a few nights ago, yet the middle verse is as if taken right out of a scene in my story a few chapters ago. I had no choice but to use it when it fits so incredibly well. The lines I am referring to are quoted in bold/italics in the middle of the chapter in the middle of a scene. **

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

**Through The Ghost**

**Chapter 15: I'm Yours**

_'When I woke up this morning_

_ I cried as I walked to the door_

_ I cried about how long I'll be away for_

_ I cried about leaving you all alone...'_

Music blared from the speakers in Damon's living room as he splashed the last of the shaving cream off his face and tapped his razor against the sink before setting it back into the medicine cabinet. The cool water felt good on his smooth face, and he couldn't remember the last time getting ready in the morning had felt like anything but a chore. Things were changing now. He was changing.

A freshly brewed pot of coffee sat waiting for him in the kitchen, the promise of caffeine keeping him moving. The clock on the wall read 10:30 a.m., which meant he had about an hour to kill before Elena would be there. The man in the mirror had the goofiest grin on his face as he flipped open the other side of the cabinet.

Methodically, he pulled his orange pill bottles from the shelves and worked out the combinations of medications that would hopefully help him get through the day as normally as possible. While he still viewed the regimen as a crutch, he was more willing to adhere each day. He didn't need a professional to scribble something into a chart to make it real; the results were evident every single day. Not everything came easily. Sometimes he could go three or four days in a row without much confusion at all, then it would strike out of nowhere and knock him on his ass, reminding him these things didn't happen overnight. There were parts of him that would never heal, and he was working everyday to accept that.

All the excuses he'd made about side-effects were shoved aside. Chemicals worked together in a way to balance out his mood, and if something was too much sometimes it felt like he forgot how to feel anything at all. There was an exception, thank god. Even on his most numb days, his heart still kicked around in an irregular rhythm when he thought of Elena. Overall he was less edgy, but his feelings for Elena were so wonderful and real. He wouldn't give them up for the world; not even when they hurt.

It was unbelievable how easily he could see her. He could talk to her whenever he wanted, touch her whenever he wanted, and if he hadn't messed things up too terribly the other night, he could kiss her whenever he wanted, too. He took one last glance in the mirror before tipping his hand up to his mouth and swallowed down his supposed stability for the day. He could barely believe it himself; he was still smiling.

The pills swam down his throat with a cold glass of water and he set the glass down just in time for his phone to light up on the bathroom counter next to him. He smirked, as he always did when that goofy picture of her appeared on his screen along with the ringtone he'd assigned to her.

"Hey," he said a little too deeply. He cleared his throat and cranked the volume down on his iPod, thankful for bluetooth speakers. "Good morning." His hand found his still wet, uncombed hair as he fell into the nervous habit he'd developed around her years ago.

"Hey. Are you getting ready?" she asked simply, but the smile in her voice was evident and beautiful. He swiped away wet, straying hair that had stuck itself to his forehead since his shower, and headed into his bedroom to search through his closet for a shirt he'd deem worthy enough for the day. Today was a big day, and not just because he got to see her. Elena was turning 31 tomorrow, and after things had settled down with Izzy the other night she'd finally, seriously asked him if he'd like to go with her to her Mom's for the small get together she and Jeremy had planned.

"Yeah, why? Is everything okay?" He frowned as he slid hanger after hanger across the bar of his closet. He'd been struggling with what to wear since he got up, and while it made him feel like an indecisive and paranoid, this day was important and he didn't want to screw it up by wearing the completely wrong thing. Too casual meant laziness, but if he dressed up too much he'd probably look about as frantic as he felt.

"Yeah. Everything's fine. I just got here a little early," he detected a nervous smile in her voice and his hand dropped from the wire hangers in his closet and he reached up to grip the top of the door frame. "I'm at your door downstairs. Could buzz me up? It's really windy."

"Uh, yeah, just a second," he swallowed, tugging a crisp blue button up shirt and silver and blue tie off a hanger. He slid his arms into the sleeves quickly and draped the tie around his neck before he pressed the button to allow her up. By the time she reached his door, he'd changed his mind four times about whether or not he should kiss her. It was then he decided to stop over-thinking every last thing and just let it happen. other shoe to drop.

So he told himself to just go with the flow, but when he opened the door, the flow was hotter than he'd expected. His eyes scooted down the length of her yellow sundress and landed on her heels. He swallowed, kicking himself for not coming up with something to say, and brought his eyes back up to meet her eyes. Her hair was down and it landed on her shoulders. Sparkly diamond earrings peeked from behind her brown waves.

"Happy Birthday," was he could come up with. But God, did it feel so good to say to her face after all these years of whispering it to a dusty picture. And just like in his dreams, her eyes lit up and she walked into his open arms. She raised herself on her tiptoes as her arms wound snuggly around his neck. His grip on her small frame tightened, removing all space between them.

"Thank you," she whispered close to his ear. The sentiment was as genuine as the smile that reached her eyes. Too soon, she lowered herself back down and stepped away with a playful smile. "But it's not actually until tomorrow, you know."

"I know," he brushed one side of her hair behind her ear, enjoying the ease between them. "I plan on saying it to you tomorrow, too." _Or later_.

It was so hard not wonder if they'd be in the same place at midnight. If he said _stay_ he knew she would in a heartbeat. She'd made it pretty clear the other night. It was a matter of getting it straight in his head; he wished he could trust himself as much as she trusted him.

"With my luck, I won't get to say it to you tomorrow...and considering I've _never_ gotten to say it to you _ever_...well, I just can't take that risk."

Not even now, when she was warm and soft and smelled so good in his arms, could he believe this was really his life. He was _alive. _The future felt attainable and bright. His lips brushed lightly against her forehead and lingered until until she tipped her head up to look at him.

"You should get dressed," she said softly as her fingers gripped the ends of the loose tie hanging around his damp neck. He could imagine a future when this was real...where he stood before her every morning in a dream-like haze. It was easy to believe Elena felt it too; he heard her breathing change into slow, heavy patterns like she had to talk herself back down to earth. Like she couldn't believe it was real either.

When the staring got heavy, she dropped her hands from his tie with a smile and eased into conversation. "I smell coffee."

"You do," he chuckled, glad for the break in the tension. "There's a fresh pot if you want to grab some," he thumbed toward the other room and she backed away slowly, eyes scanning his bare chest on her way out.

Alone, he let out breath and slipped a black leather belt through the loops of his dark jeans. He'd been right to choose something dressier after seeing what she'd selected. Her family wasn't wealthy, but he wanted to look nice. Worthy. He needed her mother and brother to know he was okay...that he was the kind of man who could take care of Elena...the kind of man who could take care of himself. He was so much better than the last time they'd seen him.

He smiled as he heard the volume of the music crank up. She'd messed with his playlist, picking the softest, slowest song on the device. He was certain it was no accident that they were now listening to a song they'd heard in the car one of the last nights he'd been in the States. It was them in everything from melody to content, and he'd played it tirelessly overseas before his accident.

**_"You healed these scars over time  
Embraced my soul  
You loved my mind  
You're the only angel in my life  
The day news came my best friend died_**

**_My knees went weak and you saw me cry_**

**_Say I'm still the soldier in your eyes..." _**

It was more real and true than ever before, and the fact that she'd chosen it spoke volumes about her feelings, too.

With his iPod tucked under one arm, she walked back into the room with two steaming mugs of coffee in her hands.

Her now bare feet padded across his floor, stopping before him as he began working the buttons of his shirt in his floor length mirror. Her head tipped to the side as she smiled as she sipped the hot brew. Their eyes met in the mirror and his hands fell to his sides loosely.

"What's wrong?" He asked, turning to meet her face. He felt her eyes burning a trail up his body, catching once again on his bare torso behind his open dress shirt.

"Nothing," she said with raised eyebrows. He thought he heard her sigh before she set her mug down next to his on the dresser beside them. She fingered the lowest buttons of his shirt, fastening them slowly. She was close enough for him to feel her hot breath and warm fingers brush against his chest until she'd slid the final shiny circle through the top buttonhole.

When she was finished, she looked up at him and he swore her pupils had doubled in size. "This shirt. I've never seen a blue so close to your eyes..." She's said it as if she'd been comparing any and every shade of blue to that of his eyes since the moment they'd separated. He really hoped she had. "It's amazing."

Rubbing the tips of her fingers over the silk of his tie again, she slowly and diligently worked it into a perfect trinity knot. He spun around quickly to take a look in the mirror. It was crisp and neat. With wide eyes, he measured the sweet curve of her lips in her reflection, then turned and bent down to press a gentle kiss on her lips.

"It's a shame you don't need to be so fancy," she rasped as she pulled away. Her pink cheeks told him she was enjoying this slow morning as much as he was. "It's just Mom's house."

"Why'd you go through all this, then?" He waved at the tie. "Don't get me wrong. It's a beautiful knot. Better than I could pull off."

He smirked when her cheeks tinted pink, and his heart jolted in his chest when her hand came up to fist the knot gently so she could pull him closely to her again.

"Because I can." The words were simple but he had a pretty good idea that she actually meant something so much bigger. Her fingers slid into the perfect knot of the tie, loosing it slowly. She pulled it off him and releasing his top button. "And I love you in a tie," she tugged the sides of his shirt up until it came untucked from his jeans. Hell, he'd be content to let her undress and redress him all day long.

All thoughts of what was too fast or not fast enough were out the door as soon as their lips connected. The kisses were long and tender, wordless promises. He pressed his thumbs gently into the diamond studs in her ears and smiled against her lips before pulling away. Even the sweetest kisses were still hotter than anything he'd ever shared with any woman before or since.

When she let out a small giggle, he took a quick glance in the mirror and thumbed away the red smears of lipstick around his lips. One side of his collar stood against his neck. "I should've let you leave that way," she bounced her eyebrows. "That'd answer the thousands of questions we'll no doubt be asked today."

_ Damn she's fun_, he thought as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. He couldn't remember ever feeling so light and so wound up at the same time. And for once, his jumpiness had nothing to do with bad memories. His hands were itching to dive back into her hair, to unzip her dress and press kisses along the length of her back. Some moments were so thick with tension, but others...like this, were instinctual. Somehow they'd fallen into this kind of easy-going place where almost everything had started to feel natural.

He was going as her date. She'd told him as much on the phone the night before when he'd gotten all weird and quiet. And while they didn't have some big, life-altering moment that finally signaled they were together, he felt more confident than ever that she really wanted to fight for them as much as he did. They were just Damon and Elena, and those friends and family who really knew her knew what that meant.

Yet as the hands on the clock continued to turn, he began to wonder if her family would act differently around him now. Had she told her mother what had been going on with them lately? Thanksgiving felt like a lifetime ago. Had she mentioned the no-sex thing...because that was hardly any of her mother's business and honestly he'd rather go in there with the whole clan thinking they _were_ sleeping together than knowing the only reason they hadn't was because he was being tormented inside his head.

He drained the last of his coffee as the song ended and watched peacefully as she did the same. She did a quick finger-comb through of her mussed waves, but her cheeks were so pink it was hard to imagine they'd have gotten back to normal by the time they arrived at her mom's house.

"Ready?" She asked carefully. Her face was almost pained, as if she thought he'd back out of it at the last second. He wanted to tell her how much thinking he'd done lately...that he'd made a decision about the way he wanted to live. He wanted to tell her he'd do everything in his power to not back out of one single thing with her again, but there was a part of him that still doubted he could pull it off.

Depending on how the afternoon went, maybe he'd have the courage to tell her later. He slid his wallet into his back pocket and opened the front door for her to walk through before him.

* * *

The drive was easy, and when they pulled into her Mom's driveway, his nerves settled as he saw only a few cars parked down its length. The sun was bright and a warm breeze blew through Elena's hair as they walked around the back of the house to the deck, where Jeremy was standing by the grill.

"Hey, sis. Happy Birthday," He walked up to them first and kissed her on the cheek. When he looked at her, his expression flared with protectiveness, as if he'd been watching over her for years. He liked the guy, for that reason and so many others. Even though he was her younger brother, something told him he'd played a key role in keeping her stable once she'd gotten out of the military.

"Hey, Jere," Damon offered, extending his free hand toward her brother; the other hand was busy holding Elena's at his side. He wouldn't hide his feelings for her this go around. The last thing he wanted to do was take two steps back. Elena's hand was warm and soft and it kept him grounded.

To his relief, Jeremy took his hand with a smile and shook it soundly. "Damon," he slapped the side of his arm happily. "Glad you could make it. Izzy and April are on the side of the house with a kite, and Mom's inside cussing over the stove about something not turning out right," he pointed with a thumb behind him. "It's nice out here. You guys should have a seat. I can go in and grab you something to drink if you'd like."

"I can go in and grab something," Damon offered, but Elena pecked him on the cheek quickly and released his hand. He saw Jeremy smirking out of the corner of his eye as he lifted the lid of the grill and threw a few ears of corn on the grates.

"It's okay, I'll go. I want to check on Mom anyway. I'll be right back." Just like that and he and Jeremy were alone.

"How you been, man?" Jeremy asked as he closed the lid of the grill, squinting in the sun.

"Been worse," he said honestly with a smile. "In fact, I can't think of a time I've been better," his blue eyes followed Elena's sway up to the house as she slid open the screen door that led to the kitchen.

"She looks happy," he tipped his head toward the house. "It's nice to see." Damon nodded. He wasn't sure what she'd all told her family, so he played it easy. He wouldn't confirm or deny a thing until she was back and next to him. "Guessing you have something to do with that."

"Ask your sister," he smiled widely and Jeremy chuckled knowingly. Just when he thought he'd gotten out of the serious talks, Jeremy pulled out the big guns.

"Seriously, though. You being back means a lot to her. My sister's always been a private person, but the way she is with you lately...it's like she's been underwater for three years and finally just took her first breath."

Touched and moderately uncomfortable by such a raw, meaningful statement from a guy who should have all the reasons in the world to hate him, he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I can't imagine what it was like. I mean, Dad was here and gone in the blink of an eye, but I was so little. I couldn't do what you did, man. I couldn't even do what Elena did. And now that I'm older and have a family of my own, I don't know how the hell my father had the courage to do what he did," he clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You did what you had to do, Damon. And no one's holding it against you. Not me, not Mom and certainly not my sister."

Instinctively he wanted to bring up the whole Chicago thing...how that was the most unheroic thing he'd ever done...but he needed to learn to take a compliment. And if her family was going to accept him, faults and all, he needed to stop guilt tripping himself and just say thank you.

"I appreciate that," Damon swallowed.

"I don't know what you have going on with her now...and I don't know what you had going on with her back before you left, but I'm guessing it was big. Maybe I'll never know details and maybe I don't even want to...I just want to know she's going to be okay...that this isn't going to just blow up in her face in a few months because I swear she can't handle anymore. The best gift you could ever give my sister is honesty."

The words hit home and he knew the decision he'd made the day before was the right one. He needed to go through with his plans for the evening no matter what. She needed it as much as he did.

"I fucked up before, man. Pushing her away was the biggest mistake of my life. I won't do it again," he assured him. Jeremy gave him a look that said he understood and believed him and thankfully the heavy stuff ended after that. A rush of relief washed over Damon as he saw Elena walking back toward them with two bottles of water in her hand. Behind her was Caroline with a full glass of red wine and a familiar grin.

"Damon Salvatore," she said as she lifted her sunglass from her eyes to rest them atop her head. "You look good," she added as Elena slung her arm through his. His hand hung loosely in his pocket, so he took it out and rested his hand on the small of her back. These little movements were starting to become normal for the two of them again, but it was clear from the swoony look in Caroline's eyes that people were paying attention. "I'm so glad to see you home and safe."

Come to think of it, he did feel safe. Home had always been a state of mind for him, not a place. But these faces had become something familiar to him over the course of the years, though he'd seen some of them less than a handful of times.

"It's good to be home," his fingers clawed gently into the small of Elena's back and she smiled. And while it seemed their hand holding and gentle caresses were often the center of attention that day, he felt his courage kick up every time she didn't pull away.

After dinner they'd gathered around a small bonfire in the backyard, toasting marshmallows and telling old stories. Izzy's eyes were growing heavy as she sat on her mother's lap in a foldout camp chair, and Jeremy tossed another log on the fire before he took a swig of his beer. It was comfortable and fun, but it was all just scenery. He could only really feel the woman leaning her head and back into his chest. He could only really hear her laughter.

They sat on the ground, legs stretched out before them. She was between his legs, her feet crossed at the ankles, back flush against his chest. His hands dug into the grass behind him and he took a moment to stare up into the starry sky. It was a clear night, clearer than most in the city. He'd learned to love the stars while he'd been away.

She shivered against him when the breeze found the bare skin of her neck, and he reached one arm around to wrap around her stomach holding her close. He wanted her alone. He loved her family, but he ached to tell her things now. Big things. Things he wished he would've had the courage to when he'd first come back from Iraq.

He set a kiss on her ear softly and whispered, "I want to take you home and warm you up," and he felt her shiver against him again and nod, and tightened his grip.

The Gilbert's felt more like family than any family he'd ever known. He was grateful in ways they would probably never fully understand, and he loved them the most for the way they loved Elena. For the gentle but firm way they'd cared for her while he was gone...for keeping her alive and breathing at a time when she'd made it sound like she'd just wanted to die, and they'd done it without full disclosure of why Elena was so wrecked. There were just some things they'd never know.

And even if he spent the rest of his life just like this, working at the bookstore with his best friend, running and spending time with the people he cared the most about in the world, he would be content. Jeremy's words echoed in his mind; he'd made sacrifices and they hadn't gone unnoticed. Before he met Elena, he'd always figured it didn't matter if he made it home from deployment dead or alive. But once he'd kissed her goodbye, he'd never been more afraid.

It was time Elena got to hear from her soldier; she'd been waiting unanswered for far too long.

The fire was dying out by the time Jeremy rose to pick his sleeping daughter up off of April's lap. He exchanged hugs with the woman and shook Damon's hand. The grip was strong, almost a warning. "I kept her safe for you, man. You do the same for me, brother," he said quickly in Damon's ear when he thought no one was listening. He gave him a nod before turning to Elena to ask if she was ready to go or wanted to stay. The day had been almost perfect. No one had asked any really embarrassing questions and he'd made it through it without any freak outs. Even Elena seemed happy and calm. He couldn't remember every having such a good time with her without feeling like something was about to go terribly wrong.

* * *

They arrived back at his apartment around 11 p.m. He'd left the window cracked open to let in some air during the day, but now the place was chilly and dark. Elena reached for a small lap on a table in his living room and clicked it on. He stared at her for a moment, deciding how to bring it up. To hell with it; it was no or never and he couldn't imagine things being any worse than when he'd pushed her away in Chicago.

"Stay with me awhile. Come to my room," he held out his hand. Her eyes flickered with heat and surprise as she took his hand and followed him without question. "Get in my bed."

Again, she followed his requests without a word. She slipped off her heels and slid under the thin blanket on the top layer, hoping to warm up but unsure of what was to come. Before he could change his mind, he reached into his top dresser drawer and produced a worn box. The time it took him to get back to the bed felt like forever, but it sped up all too quickly when it was time to actually hand her the gift.

"It's almost your birthday now. I know you said no presents..." he stopped, shaking his head. There was going going back from here. "Hell baby, this might be the worst present you ever get."

Her fingers wrapped around the lid and she began to lift it slowly. "Wait," he grabbed her hand so she'd look into his eyes. "Before you open it, I want to tell you I'm sorry."

"For what?"She frowned.

"For everything. For what I put you through...because if you knew..._when_ you know how I really and truly felt, uncensored, you might hate me all over again. I'd understand if you do. Not everything is in here beautiful and poetic. Some is raw and ugly, born out of some of the craziest days I had. Regardless...it's all me. The old, lonely me. The guy who left. The guy who lost his fucking mind out there. The guy I'm trying to grow out of. And before he's gone, I guess I just wanted you to have a chance to say goodbye."

He lifted his hand away as she opened the box and felt his stomach flip when the tears filled her eyes. This was his soul, the missing words and pieces he'd held back from her while he'd been away at war. Her eyes widened when she saw the rubber-banded thick stack of envelopes with her name scrawled across the front. Some were filthy and one had bloody thumbprint along the seal on the back. He'd been hurting when he wrote these. The memories were fresh wounds in his mind. And how they'd be hers, too, if she had the heart to read them.

"Damon..." her voice caught in her throat. He'd dated the backs of each one where the seal met the rest of the envelope, and as she flipped through them wordlessly, her big watery eyes were the only sign he needed to know he'd done the right thing today. "Are you sure?" Her voice broke and he saw a tear slide down her cheek. He'd be wound up thinking about what _she'd _think about every word he'd ever wanted to tell her. Every dream. Every sorrow and ache that he hadn't had the heart to actually end. It was all in pen, smudged and stained with the tears of a man who'd nearly gone mad missing the woman he loved.

"Yes." He said quickly, eyeing the stack again. "Take them before I lose my nerve. They've always been yours. I've just been too afraid to give them to you." His adrenaline soared as he waited for her reaction. When she walked to his bed and sat at the edge, he frowned.

"Please don't read them now," he pled. "There are things in there I may never be able to say aloud...things I can't stand to watch you read. I need you to have them, but I understand if after a few, you decide you can't finish them." He sat down next to her and she pressed her temple to the top of his shoulder. After a few moments, her shoulders began to shake and he knew she was silently crying.

"Don't," he took the envelopes and put them back into the box before closing it and handing it back to her. "I can't be the reason you cry on your birthday. Not when it's the only one I've gotten to spend with you in all these years."

"I'm not sad," she bit her lip. "I'm going to read them. Every single word...because they're _you're_ words and because you're trusting me with them. I need you to know what this means to me. And opposite of what you think, this is the best birthday present I've ever gotten," he smiled. "Don't take this the wrong way, but why now?"

It was a valid question. He'd asked himself the very same thing a bunch of times since he'd decided to include it in her present. After a bunch of excuses that couldn't pass for anything, he realized he'd been living in a thick cloud of his past since the moment his foot was blown to bits. Every time he thought about his life, he thought about what he used to have, what he used to want. He was never excited about going forward; always mourning what he'd left behind.

It must have happened gradually because he couldn't remember the exact moment his heart started beating in that fast, healthy rhythm again or just when he'd started to actually get excited about the future, but it had happened. He'd started living in the now. And tonight he was going to do just that. He knew he loved the Elena he left behind...now it was time to let himself really, truly love her in the present.

"Why now?" He repeated to give himself some extra time to deliver his reasons just right. "I guess I asked myself _why _not_ now_? And for the life of me, couldn't come up with a good enough reason. I'm trying something different," he began as she lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him with worried eyes. "If I want to move forward, I can't afford to look back."

What did it mean exactly? The history and passion that had lingered between them was too strong to just ignore. He couldn't look at her and _not_ see the woman he'd loved...the woman who'd walked by his side through so many layers of hell. But instead of seeing that fragile, breakable woman he'd left to fend for herself just weeks after her miscarriage, he'd try really hard to just see Elena. Just her – no more or less than just her.

"You don't know how many times I wake up in a cold sweat, soaking head-to-toe. And these nightmares...they aren't all violent. The worst ones are us..." he broke off and paused. "Saying goodbye again. Death. Never seeing you again. You don't know how many times I've wanted to just let my eyes open slowly...to roll over and find you wrapped up in my sheets...our legs tangled together and half-asleep because we were too damn content to move. You don't know how many times I've wished the last three years have been a nightmare...how many times I've completely lost it...woke up not knowing what was real and what was in my head. If I ever even went to war or if I just went off the deep end and am in the middle of some paranoid mindfuck that I can't get out of. Sometimes I wonder if I ever even left you at all...if I ever even had you to begin with..."

His hands were shaking, but he felt hers reach out to hold them. She looked in his eyes, clearly seeing how big of a deal these letters were, and said the simplest most calming words he'd ever heard.

"You had me. You have me." Her voice was a soothing lullaby. "It was real as hell, baby...but I'm yours," she leaned down to press a kiss to salty lips. When he calmed down, he wondered how she'd made it through without medication, then realized sometimes the body kicks into helper-mode and all the bad stuff inside yourself just starts to take a backseat...much as it had when Elena lost the baby. He'd been strong by default, so he could hold her up. That's what love was.

He couldn't let his meltdown stop him from saying what he needed to say. The rawness of his relationship with Elena allowed him to spill his heart out without immediately thinking about the shame of being emotional. Her gentle touches and understanding nods kept him going and gave him the courage to continue.

"I can't spend more time thinking about everything I did or didn't do out there. I can't question if it was right or wrong. I can't stand to think about the way we left things or the look in your eyes when I walked out of your apartment for the last time. And shit, so many things have happened since those moments and yet, that's sometimes it's all I can seem to remember. I may never be able to say some of the things that are in those," he gestured to the box. "And there's stuff that didn't even make it in there, floating in my head that I just can't seem to shake. And yeah, I'm on medicine, but it can only do so much. I just hope you can forgive me. I'd have to be dead to forget some of it."

"I'd have to be dead to ever let something come between us now," she said sweetly. He felt himself drifting into sleep slowly. He'd managed his way under the top layer of covers with her and kept her left hand in his right as he descended into sleep.

He startled awake awhile after, turning to find the other side of his bed empty. The covers were in a heap, but the sheet was still warm. He squinted in the direction of the bathroom, where he heard the faucet running. Had she needed her medicine? Had she been tough and held it in until asleep and fallen apart when he couldn't see? He hoped to God she wouldn't walk out with black streaks of mascara running down her pretty face.

The bathroom light clicked off and she padded back to the bedroom, barefoot and in one of his black V-neck t-shirts. It fell just above her knees and he had to pinch himself to make sure this, too, wasn't a dream. She crawled back into bed wearing a smile.

"I thought you'd left," he frowned, surprised at how rattled the thought of her gone made him.

"I can if you'd like," she waited.

"No. Stay. I want you to stay."

"Cool," she smiled. "Because it's late," she yawned. "And I'm getting old," she added.

His eyes lit up, a spark of excitement jolting inside him. "It's 1 a.m.!" Even the mess of the night he'd had couldn't bring him down from this high. "Happy Birthday," He pulled the back of her neck gently toward him to press a kiss on her lips so genuine he got goosebumps.

They stayed that way, his hands tangled in her hair, kissing the breath out of her until her head fell sleepily onto his chest. Wide awake with nerves as wild as live wires, he stared at the ceiling. He needed to keep his breathing even so she wouldn't wake up, but it was so hard when his heart was a jackhammer inside his chest. Something had shifted in him, whether it had happened that night or much before he'd even realized. He was sure, though, that it had everything to do with the fact that the woman sleeping in his arms was so willing to accept him for who he was.

"I'm still in love with you," he whispered when he was certain she was asleep.

His hand was arm as it rested on her stomach under the t-shirt she wore, and his thumb rubbed gently over the spot on her ribs where she'd chosen to forever wear his name. As his heart kept slamming, he wondered if her ink had symbolized a _yes_ to the proposal she'd left unanswered three years ago.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you very much for reading! Just a few more chapters to go before we're through. Thank you for your thoughts. I look forward to getting a jump on the next chapter soon. We've got a big, emotional doozy coming up. **


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